#poly!marauders

Remus wasn’t oblivious to their anticipation. He noticed the way their eyes widened whenever they heard the pet name fall softly from your lips, or how their necks would snap in your direction, as if hoping you would be looking at one of them rather than him.

After three weeks, James acknowledged it. 

“What made you start calling Remus that, love?” James asked you late one evening, the four of you huddled around the Gryffindor common room, each wrapped up in your own tasks.

You glanced up from your crochet needles, the crease between your brows deepening. You hummed as if to get James to repeat himself, sticking one finger in the guide you’re following, but then you realised what he was asking you and you exhaled amusedly. 

“Because it suits him,” you smiled with a shrug. 

Before you could return to your attempted crochet, Remus wrapped an arm around you and kissed the side of your head hard. You giggled and leaned into him, nuzzling your back into his side. Despite the twinge of jealousy, Sirius’ heart melted at the sight of you both. He wished that he were small enough to fit in the tiny gap between your bodies. 

“So, if honey suits Moony, what do we suit, then?” James brought it up a few days later when they were in Potions class. You were working with Remus a few stations away, the two of you quietly chatting to one another as you expertly got on with the work Slughorn had assigned. 

Sirius was slightly startled by the question and paused from chopping his crow claw. “I’m definitely going to get darling.”

James snorted. “Right.”

Sirius shot him a look. “Why is it that Moony, who turns into a ten-foot beast every full moon, can be suited to honey, but I am unable to achieve darling status? Beautiful, doting old me? Am I not good enough? Not darling enough?”

James laughed harder and shoved Sirius with his elbow. They heard the sound of something dropping in liquid, and Sirius cursed when his cauldron started to make a hissing sound. 

“You made me drop the rest of the crow claw! That was way too much, you bastard!” Sirius huffed, but he was half-laughing anyway. 

“Fuck,” James hissed worriedly, and his eyes landed on Barty Crouch Jr and Evan Rosier’s unattended cauldron. Slughorn was drawing closer. They could hear him praising yours and Remus’ work. 

They both shared a knowing look as Sirius darted for the other cauldron, and that was the end of their previous conversation. 

Sirius figured that if he was going to be in a bit of pain, at least James was in it with him. They did like to do everything together, after all. It had been well over a month since Remus had adopted his new title, and no matter how much he told them to just tell you how they felt, Sirius couldn’t. 

He was fully aware that it was pathetic to want a pet name so badly that it sometimes hurt to hear you call Remus by anything other than his birth-given name. Besides, he wanted you to come up with one for him naturally, as you had done for Remus. 

He attempted to call you pet names even more, just to see if that would jog you along a little bit. It didn’t work. You smiled when he called you baby, but you wouldn’t say the word back. You hadn’t given him a variation of it. 

 James called him out for being a sneak, but Sirius reckoned that James didn’t care as much as he did. James wanted a nickname from you, of course he did, but Sirius doubted it was making James as antsy as it was him. James had always been a better sport than Sirius was. You’d think he was the one who had grown up with siblings, and that Sirius had been the only child, with how spoiled he acted.

It was a rainy Tuesday when James became your second boyfriend to gain a pet name, and Sirius became the last man standing. 

Hogwarts’ library had a busy thrum buzzing through it, students everywhere preparing for their end-of-year exams, and Sirius could have bet exactly where he would find you and Remus. James had one arm tucked around his broom, his hair damp from sweat and rain during his Quidditch practice, his other large hand on Sirius’ back, gently and subtly guiding him over to where he had seen you and Remus. 

You were sitting on one of the huge armchairs by the fire, in the very corner of the library. With a leg chucked over Remus’ thigh, your head was buried in a book, whilst Remus’ was tilted back against the sofa, his jumper-clad arms extended above his face, holding a notebook that he circled things in with a Muggle pen. 

Sirius nearly broke out into a grin at the sight of you two. James sped up, and quickly, they chucked their things down in the middle of the table. You shrieked, shooting James a scalding look when his broom landed on some of your parchment at the edge of the table. 

“James!” You complained and gritted your teeth when you were hushed by someone further down the aisles. “Did you not see my work right there? It’s all soggy now!”

James’ face became the image of panic, his brows tugging together, his bottom lip jutting out—not even on purpose in the same way Sirius does to make people feel guilty—James was apparently just naturally that sweet.

“Oh, fuck!” He muttered, and he yanked his broom back, beating your hands to the work that was now smudged and dripping muddy water. 

“What made you think it was a good idea to put your dirty broom on the table anyway, Prongs?” Remus raised a brow, eyeing the stained wood.

“Sorry, Y/N. Sorry, Remus,” James muttered, and he shook the pages, but it only made the bottom tear away. “Shit! Right, I’ll fix this. Don’t worry, love. I’ll have it all rewritten before—when is it due?”

You sent him a warm smile, one that suggested that you could never be properly angry at him, and cooed, leaning forward. You grasped his face in your hand and kissed his lips carefully.

 “It’s due first lesson tomorrow, darling,” you told him gently. 

James swallowed, and you thought he was just worried about the deadline, but his face tinged pink, and he turned away from you quickly, shooting Sirius a look. Sirius’ eyes were like saucers, his mouth falling open slightly. His gaze flickered between you and James, and his head kept repeating your soft tone: darling, darling, darling.

It took everything to make sure his face didn’t show how he felt. He even reached up to gently brush his own cheek, just to be sure he wasn’t glaring. His hands dropped by his sides, but then he wasn’t sure what to do with them, and it felt like he was taking up far too much room without even existing at all. 

James could read exactly what Sirius is thinking. His top teeth bit down on his bottom lip, torn between saying something and trying to let it go. Sirius gripped the bag on his shoulder tighter, his knuckles growing white. 

“I don’t feel like hanging around while you lot do homework,” Sirius said. “Have fun. I’m going to go and see what Pete’s up to.”

“Oh, alright. I think I saw him in the common room, Sirius. He was with that Hufflepuff girl,” you told him with a small smile

He gritted his teeth with a false smile of his own. “Great. I’ll go and see Pete and the Hufflepuff.”

Sirius spent the rest of his evening in his bunk, the curtains drawn and his head against his pillow. His arms were folded against his chest, the crease between his brow never fading for a second. He’d changed into his pyjamas—a black vest and some plaid pyjama trousers—and tried to go to sleep, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the three of you down in the library, most likely studying and laughing and having pet names for one another. He wished he didn’t care so much. He wasn’t sure why he did. 

Of course, he would be the last one to get a pet name! Sirius began to wonder if he would ever get one. Perhaps you didn’t think fondly enough of him, or maybe he didn’t suit any of the sweet ones, like honey or darling. He wished he were one of the other boys, bathing in your affection, feeling so incredibly special. 

There was a rustle against his curtain, and your head stuck through moments later. 

“Why are you lying above your covers?” You asked him, though there was hardly a hint of judgment in your tone. 

Sirius huffed through his nose. “Too lazy to get in.” You laughed, your face brightening. “Room for one more?” You asked, but you didn’t wait for his answer, your knee nearly colliding with his thigh before he moved it out of the way at expert speed.

“Not really,” Sirius chuckled, but his arm extended to you anyway, and you climbed in against his chest, half lying on his body. His hair tickled your forehead. “You smell nice.”

You beamed up at him. “Thanks. I had to go and finish some bits in the greenhouse for Herbology. I think it’s lavender—something fell on me, anyway."

Sirius stroked your arm. In return, you traced one of the tattoos he had gotten over the Christmas holidays. Each time you saw it, you couldn’t help but grin, thinking about the look on Professor McGonagall’s face when she had seen it for the first time. It was even better when Sirius had proudly told her that he planned on getting more and more. 

“Love this tattoo,” you murmured, your finger following the outline of the moth on his right bicep. 

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. “Really? You told me I’d regret it.”

“Well, you do hate moths,” you reminded him. “But it’s a pretty tattoo. Suits you, Pads.”

“Pretty,” he scoffed. “My tattoos are not supposed to be pretty.”

“Everything’s pretty when it’s on you, baby,” you murmured to him, stroking up and down his chest, and he became scared you would hear the way his heart stammered in his chest, completely missing several beats before pounding harder than it ever had before. 

The last time he felt this giddy was when the four of you had started your relationship. Months of dying to hear a pet name come from your mouth, and you’d finally picked one for him. An endearing term that was created specifically for him. Something you would call only him, and something he’d only let you call him. 

“Baby?” He croaked.

You reached up and played with the curls in his hair. “My baby,” you confirmed, and kissed his jaw.

It only took Sirius a few seconds to recover and flip you so that you were beneath him. Your screeching laughs filled the room as he kissed you all over—your face, your neck, your hair, your shoulders.

“Sirius!” You laughed. “That tickles!”

“Say it again!” He demanded with a laugh. “Say it, Y/N!”

“Baby!” You wheezed, and your laughter dimmed when he chucked himself hard against you, nuzzling his face right in between your neck and shoulder.

The curtain opens, and Sirius grins up at Remus and James, who look equal parts amused and concerned. 

“It finally happened?” James asked.

“I don’t care if you told her,” Sirius grumbled into your skin. “My one is better than all of yours.”

You snorted. “You and James should have told me months ago you wanted me to call you something.”

James rolled his eyes. “Where’s the spontaneity in that?”

“You’re both pathetic,” Remus teased.

“Says the one who got his pet name first, you hypocrite!”

Sirius squeezed you tighter, not ready to share you yet. He felt awful for the one-sided annoyance he’d been surviving through, and the jealousy he’d felt every time Remus was called honey. It turned out, good things did come to people who waited. Sirius wasn’t sure how he’d survived eighteen years without hearing you call him baby before. 

Now that you’d said it once, he’d need to hear it every single day. 

You’re roused by someone kneeling between your legs. His long cock, slick with his own spit, prods at your entrance. Slowly sinking into your warm and welcoming hole.

A low whine stirs in your throat, and you’re not quite awake enough yet to open your eyes. You’re disoriented, lost in a dream-drunk haze, making it ever so hard to make sense of the warm sensation between your legs. All you know is that it’s divine.

“Shh, darling,” he whispers, pressing sweet, soothing kisses to your lips. He stills his hips, allowing you a moment to adjust both to his size and the morning light.

“Rem,” you moan, recognizing him by the feeling of his lips on yours, and how deeply his cock spears you. Your voice is hoarse with sleep, which he finds adorable, his heart swelling with affection.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Remus’s warm brown irises and even warmer smile. Messy strands of his mousy hair fall over his forehead as he leans over you, half concealing the faint crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

“G’morning,” he murmurs, beginning to slowly rock in and out of you. Heat rushes to your core, and you start to breathe in pants as the delicious grind of his hard cock against your gummy walls fully drags you out from your slumber.

Remus supports his weight with his forearm pressed into the mattress by your head, his hand lovingly cradling your face. His other arm snakes beneath you. With his palm flat against your lower back, he presses your naked body firmly into his. Your arms wrap around his middle, too, your nails lightly scratching at his skin.

Remus grunts, slowly picking up the pace of his thrusts. He drops his head to your shoulder to nip at your collarbone. Over his head, you see James watching from the bathroom doorway as he brushes his teeth. When his hazel eyes meet yours, he winks. Shortly after, he disappears into the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

Later, Remus finishes inside you as your walls clench around him, pulsing from your first—and definitely not your last—release of the day.

Remus cradles you against his chest, whispering sweet praise and inviting you to go back to sleep. But he’s woken you up now, and you can hear the shower running. The warm water calls to you, so you leave Remus with a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Jamie?” you murmur as you stumble into the steamy bathroom. He’s already on you by the time the first syllable slips past your lips, tugging you by the wrist under the spray of the shower with him.

“Hi, love,” he says, grinning. He hugs you tightly from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. You lean your head back to look at him, and he plants a minty kiss on your lips. “Moony didn’t wake you too early, did he?”

“No, ‘m fine,” you sigh, content. The warm water feels wonderful on your skin, and so do James’s hands as they skate across it, tracing arbitrary patterns.

“I bet you are,” James hums teasingly. One of his hands slowly drifts south. You gasp as his fingers part your folds. Remus’s cum is still warm inside of you, and James groans as he spreads it around, his fingers brushing over your clit with every pass.

Whiny, helpless little noises slip past your lips as James teases you. You’re still sensitive from when Remus fucked you mere minutes ago, which James considers, but ultimately it only makes him want you more.

He spins you around to face him, and he walks you back until your skin comes into contact with the shower tiles. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth because the smooth tiles are unexpectedly cold, but James quickly distracts you from it.

He hikes one of your legs around his hip and continues playing with your clit with his thumb.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, eyes raking over your bare body, mesmerized. Water droplets glisten on your skin as he watches the heavy rise and fall of your chest.

He guides his cock between your folds, circling the head around the sensitive bud before burying himself in your sweet pussy. You moan his name as he begins pounding into you, and you’re glad Remus had you first. Remus is long, but James is thicker, and having him first made it easier for your walls to accommodate James’s girth now, especially with how ruthless James is in his movements.

James has you in the shower until the water runs cold, your fingers have shriveled up like raisins, and the noises you make are nothing but whiny babbles. He has a hand pressed against your pelvis, and his thumb is rubbing tight circles on your clit. It’s already made you cum for him once, and he’s yet to stop. It’s a little overwhelming, enough to make your legs shake.

You bury your hands in his wet mop of hair as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking greedily. The combined sensations draw out another orgasm from you.

“Gonna fill you up, love,” he grunts, hips stuttering as he nears his own release.

A broken “please” falls from your lips, and with one final, powerful thrust, his hips stall, and you feel his warm release coat your inner walls.

“Fuck,” he groans, lifting his head to press a kiss to your temple. “So good.”

He helps you clean up under the water afterward. It’s slightly uncomfortable since it’s no longer warm, which is why he works quickly, but gently, so that he can wrap you in a fluffy towel and warm you back up with fast strokes of his hands over your goosebump riddled arms.

James continues to take care of you. Applying your morning skincare while you sit on the sink, styling your hair while shooting you occasional warm smiles in the mirror, and even dressing you. He picks out a flowy little dress for you to wear, and that’s it. Wearing short dresses around your home, with nothing underneath, is something you’ve grown accustomed to. It stirs up a certain warmth in your tummy, and your boys love it. Easy access, and all that.

“Beautiful,” James murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before leading you to the kitchen. He sits you down on one of the stools while he starts preparing breakfast for the four of you. Remus is in the kitchen too, brewing James’s coffee and putting a kettle on for himself.

You squeal when a pair of arms suddenly wrap around your waist. Sirius tucks his face into the crook of your neck, attacking you with kisses.

“Good morning, baby,” Sirius says, his voice muffled by your neck.

You giggle, the vibrations from his words against your skin tickling you.

Sirius lifts you from your stool, planting your feet flat on the ground next to it. His hands roam your body, running up and down your sides, massaging your shoulders a bit, sharply smacking your ass.

Your yelp prompts James to cast him a sideways glance. “Careful with her, Pads. She’s had quite the morning already.”

“Yeah. I heard,” Sirius smirks, and a heat to rushes to your cheeks. You’re sure overhearing Remus and James have their ways with you is what has Sirius so worked up—a little jealous, probably—as he pushes your dress up and over your hips. “Bend over for me, sweetheart,” he instructs, and you do as he says. Bracing yourself over the counter.

Remus keeps his eyes on you the entire time Sirius fucks you, casually sipping his morning tea as if he’s not rock hard in his trousers. You try your best to hold that eye contact, even with your cheek smooshed against the granite by Sirius’s hand in your hair.

Sirius angles his hips so that the thick head of his cock bumps into that sensitive, spongy spot with every thrust. Your legs shake violently, and if it weren’t for the counter and Sirius’s bruising hold on your hips, you’re not sure you’d still be standing.

An arm circles your waist. Sirius’s fingers dip between your folds, and you cry out in pleasure as he circles your clit.

“Gonna cum for me?” Sirius asks in that heady voice that makes you feel dizzy.

James is finished cooking breakfast by then. He passes by with plates of food, placing them on the wooden table in the corner of the room. On his way back, he stops at your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. When he straightens back out, Sirius grabs him by his shirt and tugs him into a sloppy kiss. James threads his fingers through Sirius’s dark hair, pulling on it sharply. Sirius promptly cums inside of you, and your orgasm follows shortly after.

James has a smug little smirk on his lips as he finishes setting the table, but Sirius is only focused on watching his cum leak down your thighs.

With two fingers, he collects the creamy liquid and stuffs it back in your poor, overused hole.

A broken whine parts your lips, and Remus, still watching, frowns. Sirius’s fingers brush across your oversensitive clit, and your whole body shudders violently.

Sirius chuckles, but Remus takes pity on you.

“Enough teasing her,” he says, putting down his mug.

“She’s still eager for it, the way she’s squeezing my fingers,” Sirius responds, pumping them inside you again.

Remus sighs. “Come here, lovely,” he says in a gentle command, opening his arms.

Sirius is quick to let you go, knowing it’s a command for him as much as it is for you. You melt into Remus’s embrace, his long arms enveloping you in his warmth.

Remus presses his lips to the crown of your head. “That true?” he murmurs. “Still want more after we’ve all fucked you?”

You hide your face in his chest, embarrassed. A low chuckle rumbles through him.

Remus guides you to the table to enjoy the delicious breakfast James made for everyone, and to sit you down on his cock, hard still from watching you take Sirius’s.

As you sit pretty on Remus’s length, your boys dote on you. Remus rubs any tension from your shoulders, peppering little kisses on the back of your neck as he does. Sirius whispers sweet nothings to you as he massages your scalp. The sensation is so delightful, you have to fight your eyes from rolling back so you can focus on the breakfast James feeds you. And the syrupy kisses he gives you between bites of pancake.

It’s pure bliss, and whether or not you’ve always been a morning person, you sure are now.

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A warmth spreads from your chest, washing over your face and down your arms. You wonder if James can feel it tingling in your fingertips. “I’ll see you later?” you ask softly. 

James smiles. “Yeah, I’ve just got a couple of things to handle first. I’ll come find you, yeah? For dinner?” 

“Sounds great.” Your answering smile is irrepressible. He gives your hand a squeeze before letting go, slipping into his room. 

It’s difficult, not to collapse against the closed door with a sigh like a lovesick girl in a film. You’ve no doubt that to anyone watching you give the general impression anyway, huge smile still stuck to your face and hearts in your eyes. 

You hear Sirius’ voice from inside James’ room. You’re sure Remus is in there as well, his presence only less audible than Sirius’. You suspect they’re James’ couple of things to handle. You don’t mind; James likes to have at least some time alone with his friends each day, and you wouldn’t begrudge him it. It’s sweet. Honestly, it only endears you to James more that he has such close friends, friends which go all the way back to childhood and whom he clearly loves fiercely. You’re glad you’re getting to know them as well—not only because Remus and Sirius are nice to be around, but you don’t imagine it can be a bad thing to get along with your partner’s friends. Sirius seemed to have some trouble getting used to you, but you think you might be finally moving past that; if you’re lucky, you could all be quite happy once you and James are married. 

You meander the halls a bit on your way back to your room, still buzzing with a restless, giddy energy, a throat-squeezing feeling of possibility. It’s as you pass the open doorway of an office that you hear your name. 

“...see how he was holding her hand? It’s cruel.” 

You stop on the other side of the door. You don’t grow up in a palace without developing a healthy proclivity for eavesdropping; if people in Gryffindor are talking about you, you want to know what they’re saying. 

“They’re engaged.” That’s Lily’s voice, matter-of-fact. “Holding hands is part of the deal.”

“It is when it’s for the cameras.” You recognize Mary’s cadence now, too. 

“You know James. He’s touchy with everyone.” 

“Exactly, but she doesn’t know that,” Mary argues. She sounds the tiniest bit upset. “James can—I know he’s only being friendly, he doesn’t mean to, but he can flirt without having any idea he’s doing it. She’s going to get the wrong idea.” 

Your stomach quiets. You can’t tell if the butterflies you’ve been feeling all afternoon have frozen in place or fallen dead. 

“I know.” Lily’s voice is a murmur. “I know, but what do you want him to do? I’m sure he wants to tell her everything, but Remus and Sirius will know better than to trust her yet. She’s only been here a couple of weeks. If they tell her and she calls off the wedding, how would that look for Gryffindor? Or if she tells anyone else?” 

Mary sighs. 

“He’s the prince,” Lily says gently. “He has to consider the whole kingdom, and we can’t afford for this to get out. Not everyone is ready for…for…” 

“For their king to be in a gay polycule?” 

You choke on air. 

“It’s not like it would be the first time,” Mary offers.

“Allegedly,” Lily says, though there’s a hint of a smile in her tone. 

Mary scoffs. “Right, allegedly.” 

There’s a long pause. You hear the scrape of wood against the floor and imagine Lily scooting her chair closer to Mary, playing with the ends of the other girl’s hair. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It does feel…well, it’s not ideal. Maybe I can talk to James about being a little less…James.” 

Mary’s voice lowers. “I just feel bad for her. She left her home, her family didn’t even seem to hesitate about sending her away—forever—and now she’s an outsider in her own marriage.” 

The barb of their pity stabs through you. Lily murmurs something in response, but you don’t stick around to hear it. You’re done being gossiped about for the day. 

You’re moving so quickly, you walk past the hallway to your room twice before finding it. There’s something warm and sour curdling in your gut, and you’re—you don’t know what you are. Hurt, indignant, nauseous. You feel like an idiot. 

It all seems so transparent now. Horrifyingly, glaringly obvious. Remus’ hand on James’ knee when his bouncing was shaking the table. The private look on Sirius’ face when James fished a leaf out of his hair. How comfortable they all are with each other, touching and joking and speaking in a language you hoped—foolishly—you might one day crack. But it’s not meant to be shared with you. 

You’ve thought, once or twice, that James hasn’t seemed as nervous as you are when you spend time together. Not since that first day. You told yourself it was part of his personality—he’s a confident man, not the sort to trip over his own feet when he likes someone, you shouldn’t read into it—but now, of course, this makes sense. None of this is real to him. The performance is as much for you as it is for the cameras, meant to keep you happy and incurious. 

You would never have gone along with it if you’d known. It’s no wonder Sirius hasn’t been friendly to you; you’re encroaching on his relationship. On all of theirs. You’ve flirted with James in front of all of Remus and Sirius, planned dates, talked about your wedding. You wouldn’t have—god, you’re not trying to stand in the way of what they have. Even when you thought they were only friends, their love for each other was so obvious they couldn’t hope to mask it. You would never want to get in the way of that. You don’t want to do this to them.

But just as the acidic tang of guilt rises in your throat, another force shoves against it. You aren’t doing this to them. Every part you’ve played in this has been against your will. If you’d gone into this arrangement with your eyes open, you could have done things completely differently. Only you hadn’t been given that choice. 

You don’t think James hates you. Remus might not, either. But whatever progress you’ve made with each of them seems pointless now. The impression you had upon first entering Gryffindor has never felt more true. No one wants you here. They never did. 

You’re every bit the girl in a film now, laying on your bed letting tears slip down to wet the pillow. You register the cliche and do nothing about it. 

You don’t know what to do. You can’t go home. Riddle is at Peleria’s doorstep. Even if you could get the King and Queen to commit Gryffindor’s armies without going through with the marriage, Lily is right; it would look bad for both of you to call it off now. You have to marry James. It’s all that’s been asked of you. It’s all you can offer your family, your kingdom. You can’t go home. 

Gryffindor was supposed to be your new home. 

A soft knock on your door summons you from the smog of your self-pity. You sniffle, scrubbing mostly dried tears from under your eyes and checking your reflection in the mirror before saying, “Yes?” 

Remus pokes his head in. The sight of him makes your chest hurt—the slight uptilt to his mouth, the kindness of it. You wonder if this whole time, he’s only been kind to you out of sympathy. “Sirius is jealous that you and James got to spend all day in town,” he says. “He wants to go out for dinner. Are you ready?” 

“Um.” Your voice comes out rough, and you clear your throat. “I’m a bit tired, actually. You guys go ahead.” 

Remus’ almost-smile fades. “If you’re tired, we can eat here.” 

“That’s okay.” 

“Sirius doesn’t always have to get his way,” he says wryly. “It’ll be good for him.” 

“I think I’m just going to…” You give your pillow a lame pat. “...go to bed.” 

You don’t look out the window, at the sun hardly beginning to set; neither does Remus. His brows furrow, and you fuss with your comforter so as not to meet his eyes. Too clever, too discerning. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

“Hm?” 

“You sound a bit hoarse.” 

“Oh.” You press your lips into a smile. “I think it’s just the weather.” 

He makes a soft hum. “I’ll have someone bring you a tea. We’ll see you tomorrow, then?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur, lying back down. “Thanks.” 

The door clicks shut behind him. A wave of feeling washes over you—silly, feeling abandoned when you’ve asked to be left behind. A couple more tears squeeze from your eyes nonetheless. They trace meandering paths down your face, the wetness cooling in their wake. 

You wonder if this is how your life will be. Going out in front of cameras with James, smiling, holding hands, then delivering him to his true partners so you can return to your room. Alone. This arrangement isn’t what you thought it was, but you can play the part. For Gryffindor and for Peleria, for James and Sirius and Remus, you can. 

The bag sitting by your family's fireplace had been packed and ready for days. It had also been packed and repacked multiple times to help pass the time.

“Why so glum, love? Only another ten minutes.”

You tried to fake a smile as you stared down at the two-way mirror in your hand, staring at Sirius's relaxed expression. He was lying in bed, arm behind his head, and hair curling over his forehead. The mirror was a creation of Sirius and James. It was initially used to talk while Sirius was home with his hellish parents; however, now that he was living at the Potter mansion, you were the safekeeper of the mirror.

It had been great over the last couple of days when missing your boyfriends, though Remus’ face was still one that you needed to see, missing the sound of his calming voice.

Now, you were becoming unsettled. You wanted to be in their arms, smell their bodies, and feel the warmth of their skin rubbing against yours.

“Ten minutes is a long time,” you explain with a defeated tone, shoulders hunching over from where you’re waiting on your sofa.

“Aww Darling, I know it is. But it’ll be worth it, and we’ve to make sure Moony gets here first so you both don’t clash in the Floo Network. I don’t want to risk  your pretty little head.”

“Hmm.”

You’re being grumpy, but really, you’re excited. Seven days seems like such a short amount of time to be away from your boyfriends in the grand scheme of things, but having been at Hogwarts for months, waking in their arms, constantly being attached to one of them, it was easy to fall into a comfortable routine. 

Sleep had been difficult to come by, and the amount of masturbating you’d been doing was probably unhealthy. But once again, you were going to put it down to the fact that you’d been having sex with three men daily, and now, you had an enormous appetite for all things pleasurable.

“PADS HURRY UP! MOONY IS HERE!” came the distant shout of James in the background, where Sirius was.

“Coming!” he shouts with a handsome grin, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he sits up on his bed. “See, I told you it wouldn’t take long, Darling. Safe travels, see you in a couple of minutes. Say hi to your parents for me.”

“Will do! See you soon!” you say with rejuvenated motivation. Rushing from the sofa, you say your goodbyes to your parents and collect the bag you’d been staring at for too long.

You’ve barely had the chance to step out of the green flames in the Potter’s dining room before you are wrapped in a blur of bronze skin, wild hair and frantic voices.

James was the first to tackle-hug you, arms circling your waist as he picks you up and spins in a circle as you cling to his neck. “You’re here! Finally!”

You laughed even as your feet planted back onto the floor again, only to be pulled away by Sirius, who practically buried his face into your neck, fingers digging into the back of your shirt as your hands moved into his hair. “A week without you? Torture, Honey. I almost set fire to the Potters’ kitchen again to feel something.”

“I thought you said seven days wasn’t that long!” you exclaim, looking back into his pouting face.

“Fine, I lied. I missed you every single second. " With a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, he finally releases you to allow the tallest Marauder his reunion.

Remus steps forward, calmer as always compared to James and Sirius, but you could see in his eyes how they softened when he looked you over. His jaw had a subtle clench like he’d been holding something in all week. He didn’t say anything. Just stepped up, taking your face carefully in his big hands, and kissed you slowly, steadily, and so full of longing that your knees nearly gave out.

“Hi,” you whisper as he pulls back, in a daze and breathless.

“Hi, love.”

When I was back with them, everything fell back into place—the laughter, the comfort, the safety. It was just right. However, James’ parents were only away for the weekend, so the four of you took the opportunity of an empty, beautiful home to host a little gathering with your friends.

An hour later, the mansion is buzzing with life. Lily and Marlene have brought drinks, Dorcas, Mary, and Alice are setting up the music on the back patio, and Frank has thrown pool floaties everywhere.

James’ parents' house was always breathtakingly beautiful, no matter how many times you visited. Despite its size, it still felt homely, thanks to Mrs Potter’s effort. The garden was truly the prize, with freshly cut green grass that stretched for acres, surrounded by a thick forest. More towards the house is a sizable pool, with a hot tub to one side that bubbled away, and a patio that stretched the width of the house.

You were lounging in one of James’ quidditch shirts, your bikini underneath, leaning against Sirius on a pool chair while he ran his fingers up and down your arm. Remus sat beside the two of you with a book, one hand always resting on your thigh, which was pulled into his lap.

James, meanwhile, had energy to burn. He was shirtless and loud, tossing a quaffle with Frank, and flexing his arms and abs every time he caught your admiring eye.

“I’ve decided”, James announces loudly, making sure he’s heard over the music, grinning. “I’m the hottest person here.”

“Not even close, “Sirius deadpanned, leaning over to take a sip from your drink. “Look at this face.” He points at his own smug expression.

“Look at her face, “Remus interrupts, not looking up from his book. “Much better view.”

Your face warms immediately as you pull your shirt collar up to hide your face, and the others laugh at your embarrassed response.

Hours later, after sharing the butterbeer, a failed BBQ attempt ends with charred food, and pizzas are ordered instead. Everyone is having a good time, catching up on each other's summers, giggling, laughing, and singing. The sun has since set, and the floating orange lights gently illuminate the back garden, aided by the now roaring fire. It’s a memorable evening with friends.

You didn’t think twice as Remus began to pull on your clasped hand, dragging your body towards the hot tub portion of the pool.

“We’ll only be a minute”, Remus calls over his shoulder to where the others were dancing around the fire. “She’s cold.”

You thought it was an odd excuse considering that Remus had perfectly kept you warm as you rested in his arms, laughing at your friends, but you went along with him, glad to have some quiet time with him.

After removing James’ shirt from your body, Remus helps you into the warm, bubbling water. The water was surprisingly loud, and you struggled to hear your friends even if they were only a couple of meters away. Remus then eases himself in, sitting on the bench in the tub, pulling your body into his lap.

Sighing into the touch, your fingers dig into his forearms, which curl against your waist as his chin rests against your shoulder. It was calm and serene, and you could still catch a hint of his aftershave over the chlorine.

The dainty touch of his lips against your shoulder causes a full-body shimmer, despite not being cold. Remus smiles against your skin, moving further up the slope of your neck as you tilt your face towards him.

Your noses brush together as you tune his arms. You lean in to close the final distance, but he holds himself back. “I want you to keep looking in the direction of our friends. Do you think you can do that?”

Biting your lip, you hum in response, turning back to your friends. You notice Sirius and James moving animatedly now, whilst the others are resting on the seats surrounding the fire.

“I missed you,” Remus speaks into your ear, his voice just above a whisper so that you could hear over the noise of the hot tub machine. “I’ve missed your voice, your smell, those little giggles when you’re embarrassed. It feels like I’ve been lost with you.”

The words had emotions soon rising as you wiggle in his lap, trying to hold onto him tighter, needing to feel his entire body on yours.

With one arm still secured around your waist, the other moved to the inside of your knee, helping each of your legs onto the outside of his thighs. As he stretched out, your legs spread, and your upper body slumped back against his chest, until the waterline reached up to your collarbones.

“And I know you’ve missed us, haven’t you? Sirius told me about your late-night chats, my poor needy girl,” Remus continues, his lips hovering by the shell of your ear. Your body shivers once more for an entirely different reason now as you think back to those nights when Sirius had talked you through touching yourself using the two-way mirror.

“Tell me, Sweetheart, do you want me to look after you? I think you’ve been patient enough these last seven days. Let me help you.”

Swallowing hard, you nod.

“Use your words, Love.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You’d expected his fingers, maybe some teasing strokes–but what you didn’t expect was the way he shifted beneath you, the slow grind of his hips, the subtle press of his hard cock beneath the water.

“Remus,” you breathe, eyes darting toward your friends. Laughter. Singing. James is yelling about the rules in a game while Sirius attempts to do a cartwheel, dangerously close to the fire.

No one was looking.

And Remus was easing his shorts lower on his hips.

The bubbling water distorted the view, so if anyone did look over, they wouldn’t necessarily see that his swim shorts were just pulled down enough that his cock was freed.

“Got to stay nice and still for me, can you do that?” Remus encouraged as his fingers ghost along the seam of your bikini bottoms.

“Yes, sir.”

The rush of water against your bare pussy was comforting for a moment. Then Remus’s bare cock is sliding between your thighs. Thick. Hot. Heavy.

And so fucking big.

Remus hears your quick breath as his thumb brushes comfortingly against your side. “I know,” he said softly, already moving your hips so that he’s able to press the tip of his cock to your clenching hole. “I know how much it hurts, baby. You always need a minute to take me.”

Because he was he biggest, Sirius may be the wildest. James might be the loudest. But Remus? The man was obscene.

He was the one who went last when you were all intimate together, had to go last, because you’d be too sore for anyone else after. You swore it didn’t even make sense how he fit, how he stretched you so wide, you were surely the evidence of his cock would bulge your tummy.

And now, with your friends just a few feet away, he was sliding inside you.

Slowly. Deeply. Until your walls burn, clenching in a way that makes it feel like your body was trying to push him out of you because it was just too much.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into his arms as your eyes flutter close, legs moving to shut on instinct, but his thighs keep them open.

“You can take it,” he encouraged, kissing your cheek sweetly. “You always do. Just sit pretty, Sweetheart. That’s it. Take every inch for me. Keep those eyes open for me, nice and quiet.”

Your eyes widened as you looked back towards your friend, now able to hear Sirius and James shouting at their friends jokingly.

You couldn’t move. Not with the stretch, the perfect and devastating stretch, pinning you open, gaping, holding you still.

Remus didn’t thrust. Didn’t pump his hips, just simply stayed inside of you. Deep and full. And already you were aching.

“You’re stuffed so tight, huh? Squeezing my cock like it’s your lifeline, Love. Bet they’d all know if they looked over what’s inside of you, there’s no hiding that pretty little face when you’ve just been fucked.”

Remus, as passive and laidback as he was with most day-to-day activities, was in charge of sex and relationships. Whether it was with you, Sirius, or James, he was the leader, giving orders, making sure you’re all in the right headspace to keep going, and that aftercare was enough.

It was challenging to stay still and quiet. Even if you weren’t sure that you’d have the energy to move up and down on his big cock, even just not squirming in his hold was difficult to do.

Seemingly reading your mind, Remus speaks firmly, “I’m not going to fuck you, I don’t want to break you, Love. I just want to reward you. I’ve missed being inside of you. So that’s what we’re going to do. With all of our friends just over there, we are going to sit here, me inside you, nice and deep, whilst you get all wet and desperate for me.”

You were already ruined, needy, clenching repeatedly around the thickest cock you’d ever taken.

“Look at you, taking all of me without making noise. I’m so proud of you.”

Those praises had you feeling lighter, as if your body were made of clouds, ready to float away.

“JAMES, YOU CANNOT THROW A BEER AT ME MID-BACKFLIP–”

“OH I ABSOLUTELY CAN SIRIUS–LOOK MARLENE, WATCH THIS!-”

Your boyfriends were being obnoxiously loud, captivating your friends' attention, and you’re so fucking thankful for this.

Warming his cock with your pussy, you eventually run out of energy, slumping further back in his hold. To anyone else, it would look like you’re falling asleep in his arms, but Remus knew it was because you were exhausted from teetering on the edge of orgasm for so long.

You were too full, too hot, too aware of Remus pulsing inside you, his cock thick and unmoving, buried to the hilt. Every breath, little shift, made you clench down violently in a helpless reaction.

He knew you were balancing on that very limit. Your thighs were trembling nonstop, the fierce dig of your nails calming but only because your energy was directed to your cunt, to the muscles that were pulsing and clenching around his dick.

“Please,” you finally whimpered, tilting your head to lean back against his shoulder, face nuzzling into his neck. “Remus, sir, I can’t-”

“You can”, he gently rubs soft circles along your stomach. “You’ve been doing so well. You just need a little push, don’t you?”

You nod desperately, never having been so wound up before in your life. 

Then you felt it, his fingers dipping between your thighs, resting heavily against your clit. There was hardly any movement, just a subtle nudge, but it was enough to send you flying.

You choked on a gasp, biting on the inside of your cheek painfully. The orgasm was blinding, hot, your body quaking and clenching down. Your breath stuttered, your orgasm rolling through you like a slow, devastating tide with each squeeze of your internal muscles. 

“Good girl, my best girl. There it is. Let it out, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your head is spinning by the time you can catch your breath. The ache between your legs now from the emptiness as Remus eases out, having found his quiet release whilst you were holding on for dear life.

The others were still laughing, loud and clueless, as Remus readjusted both of your swimsuits.

Later, when you are wrapped in a fluffy towel, cuddled against the patio sofa with your cheeks still hot to the touch and legs wobbling. James plopped beside you, arm curving around your shoulder until you’re pulled against his chest.

“You good, baby?” he asks casually, giving you a comforting squeeze.

Tilting your face up to stare at his, you answer, “Y-Yeah.”

Irius sat on your other side, his hand resting on your thigh, grinning like he could see into your soul. “You looked like you saw Merlin himself over there.”

Your eyes widened. “I- what?”

“You came, baby”, Sirius said with a low, teasing laugh. “We saw.”

Your face lit up in horror, but before you could bolt, assuming that it meant that all of your friends saw the same thing, James reached out and gently tugged your towel tighter around you.

“Relax,” he cooed. “They didn’t notice. Not the way we did.”

Remus walks up just in time, handing you a bottle of water and a couple of blocks of chocolate.

“You said no one would notice,” you hiss, your voice filled with embarrassment.

Remus squats down, smirking before kissing your head. “They didn’t.”

“But they did,” you say, nodding your head towards James and Sirius on either side of you.

“Oh, Darling,” Sirius purrs, squeezing his arm under your knees and pulling your body into his lap. “How could we not?”

“You were absolutely fucked out,” James teases, moving closer to your back that now faced him. “All dazed, little pout on your lips, still clenching your thighs together like you are trying to hold him in.”

“And let’s be honest, only Remus’ cock could do that to you. Our girl always looks ruined after he’s been inside her.” Sirius kisses your temple as his arms tighten around you.

“You’re not the only one who needs comfort after him,” James adds with a wicked grin.

“Oh my god,” you groan, hiding your face in Sirius’ shoulder.

“Don’t listen to their teasing, Love. You were perfect,” Remus reassured.

You peek at him through your lashes. But James’ cheeky face pops into your eyesight as he leans over your shoulder. “Okay, so small confession time.”

Sirius chuckles as Remus rolls his eyes. “There was a bet. Remus had to make you cum without anyone noticing, so Sirius helped to keep the others distracted.”

Your jaw dropped, “You what?”

“You won,” Sirius said proudly. “You were so good for him, Darling. Took him so deep, didn’t even move. And then when you had to hide your face as you were cumming, just beautiful!”

“I hate you all,” you declare into Sirius’ chest, where you were hiding your face.

“Do you though?” Remus asks as his hand massages your thigh. “You looked very happy sitting on my cock.”

Your face feels impossibly hot, but you don’t move from Sirius’s lap. You just sigh softly as one of them kisses your forehead.

“Love you,” James murmurs as he leans against your shoulder.

“Sweetness!” He yelled, pointedly ignoring James’ loving jab as he twirled around the bannister, glistening eyes waiting for you to appear by the end of the stairs. “Dinner’s almost ready!“

A thud. Then a muffled, nervous curse. Your steps picked up on movement. 

Sirius had frowned in confusion, wondering whatever you’d be doing to cause such commotion. He cut a quick glance at his boyfriends, and after deeming them properly occupied with one another, climbed up the stairs to check up on you.

“Coming!” Your answer came quickly. Too quickly, and your voice sounded frantic. Sirius’ brows furrowed. 

He stopped by the door, left ajar, almost closed. That was strange, none of you were in the habit of closing it. His heart twisted to its own accord, mind coming to different conclusions.

He knocked softly. “Lovely?” At the touch of his knuckles at the door, it opened with a creak. 

Sirius stepped in despite his best judgments, not suspecting anything other than maybe a small misunderstanding–you probably had tripped, or dropped something, he foolishly thought. However, the sight he encountered was far different, a recipe for heartbreak and despair. You were packing a bag in haste, hurried movements, but froze as he pushed the door open, stepping in with slow steps. 

“…What are you doing?”

Your shoulders gravitated to your ears, eyes wide much like your heart was on your throat, similarly to him. The remaining clothes in your hands shook, an indication of your own body betraying your nervousness at being found out. Sirius took a short, tentative step closer, his eyes not leaving yours. 

“Sirius–I… I was,” you swallowed thickly, eyes flickering from the door to him, almost begging for him to close it. To get an opportunity to dig your secret, hide it along the bag left open by the bed. “It’s not–it’s not what you think, love. I promise.”

“It’s not…” he frowned, looking down to make sure he was, in fact, not imagining things. That his frail mind wasn’t concocting more illusions to harm him. “It’s not what I think? Why are you packing your things, then?”

You cringed, stepping back to put down the clothes. Sirius noticed the way you placed them into the bag, not away–proving it was exactly what he thought. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“You’re leaving?” 

You screwed your eyes shut, forcing the tears he had noticed in the corners of your eyes to finally let loose, sliding down your cheeks like a tide, a bad omen. Sirius sucked in a breath, watching as you pushed the clothes deep into the bag, and closed it with finality. To him, James, Remus–to all of them.

“I must go,” you whispered, passing a harsh hand over your cheeks. Sirius’ eyes stung with unshed tears. “It’s for your own good.”

At last, a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Since when do you have the bloody right to dictate what’s good for me?” he took a step to you, and his heart twisted at the way your grip around your wand tightened in response. “Tell me the truth. Now.”

You shook your head, turning to take your bag. And as a desperate instinct, his hand reached for it before your fingers could grasp the handle. 

“Sirius–please. Don’t do this.” you pleaded quietly, your cold hands touching him over the handle. 

Your promise ring glistened over his hand, his own ring shining in response. Its love charm had been working overtime to patch the cracks in his heart.

“Me?” he asked, a startled albeit bitter chuckle left his lips, staring at you in disbelief. “You’re the one packing your things.”

“I know… I know,” you nodded, the tears on your jaw continued their trail all the way down to your neck. Sirius’ lip quivered, his fingers twitching to reach for you to clean them. “I have to.”

Steps shuffled closer, then, an unsuspecting quip. “Oi, are you two leaving me out of something?” James called out, climbing up the stairs. 

Your eyes widened more, if it was physically possible, and Sirius almost felt bad for it–but he was desperate. He fully opened the door as James walked closer. His steps faltered at what he saw, and you finally let go of your bag to turn away, to turn your back to them in order to collect yourself. 

“Everything alright?” James asked cautiously, hazel eyes flickering between Sirius and you as he slowly entered the room. He frowned at the bag in his boyfriend’s hand. “What’s that for?”

Sirius’ jaw tightened, pointing at you.

“Ask her.”

James turned to you, tilting his head as he scanned you quickly. His eyebrows pinched at your tears.  

“Is something wrong, lovie? What happened?” 

It had Sirius’ desired effect, however, not the reaction he expected. You simply snatched the bag from him in his distraction, a hiccup leaving your lips before you could stop it as you pushed past him, running down the stairs before neither of them could get a word out. James had only thrown an accusatory look at Sirius before turning to run after you, firing rapid questions that only made your hiccups turn erratic. 

He followed the voice of your sobs, of James’ hurried, desperate voice–then, Remus. 

“Dove, you’re scaring me. Why are you crying?”

“I can’t do this,” you mumbled, shaking your head the closer Sirius got. It was only a matter of time until he met you three by the door. “I promised. I promised I wouldn’t say anything–Please stop asking.”

“Promised what?”

You shook your head, shoving your foot into your boots instead of meeting their gazes–their panicked, worried gazes. When Remus moved to reach for you, Sirius only raised an arm in front of his stomach, stopping him from even taking a step. His betrayed heart controlled him despite his own loving nature when it came to you.

“Promised who, y/n?” Sirius asked this time, voice purposefully cold. Both James and Remus cut a warning glare at him–at his implications. But Sirius only took a step closer. “Riddle?”

He watched in unusual satisfaction as you froze, his lip twitched in an almost bitter smirk when you stood straight to meet his own glare. A tense silence blanketed your otherwise cozy cottage, and both Remus and James’ stances changed as they fully registered the question thrown at you–and how your silence was an answer on its own.

You scoffed. “Of course,” you muttered, passing a harsh hand over your cheeks again. Your stance changed too, one of anger that they hadn’t seen in a while. “Of course you’d think that, Sirius.”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

You shook your head, shrugging your coat on with shaky movements–anger and despair radiating off you. 

“I would never betray you that way and you know that.” 

“You’re doing it now, aren’t you?”

“Enough.” Came Remus’ voice, cutting through the tension as he walked to you, pushing Sirius’ arm from his way. However, you took a step back, almost pressed against the door. 

James sighed. “Love–please, just… just tell us enough to understand.”

“What’s the point? You’d still think I turned–that I’m leaving you to join Riddle.”

Sirius couldn’t help it. “And? Are you?”

“Sirius.”

“Answer me.” he only said, pointedly ignoring Remus’ frustrated plea. 

“Sirius, enough.”

He watched, eyes stinging with tears, as you held his glare, then turned to your boyfriends as if saving the last images of their faces in your memory–all before tightening your hold on your wand and turning to walk out the door. 

Not at all deigning to answer his question. 

But the answer came, eventually. After weeks of silence, mourning your absence–his answer came in the form of a grainy, barely visible photograph in the Daily Prophet. Next to his well known death eater brother and his friends.

“…Sirius?”

He blinks, looking away from the closed door to meet James’ half-lidded gaze, his voice drowsy as if he just noticed Sirius wasn’t by his side. 

“Go to sleep, James.” he only murmurs, reaching over to grab a brand new cig from his nightstand. 

“Hey–”

“Go to sleep.”

Hurt passes over his face, and Sirius momentarily regrets his harshness, if only he had done such a thing months ago–if he had remembered he had two loving boyfriends left that surely wouldn’t leave him for a genocidal cult. But they all had their own coping mechanisms, if James can cling to his quiet denial, and Remus to his raging silence, Sirius thinks his anger is well earned.

Nights are mostly spent that way, heavy with grief and anger depending on who’s awake and willing to embrace it. Sometimes Sirius himself would wake up to find Remus wandering around chain smoking with that permanent frown on his face, others to James’ staring out the window, cheeks glistening with tears he never had the desire to clean. On rare occasions, they’d all be granted a full night’s sleep.

Tonight is, apparently, not one of them. As James rests back on his elbows and studies him over, knowing better than to insist, Remus only sighs from his side of the bed before pushing himself up to trudge out the room. Not emitting a single word, he hasn’t since you left. 

The bad feeling clings to them like a bad omen again, and however they try to suppress it with mindless, empty sex, it seems to follow them deep into the night as the silence makes itself louder in the cottage. Sirius lights up his cigarette, pointedly looking away from James’ sad eyes as he exhales a puff of smoke, hazel eyes staring intensely to the side of his face. 

He tilts his head ever so slightly, almost challengingly. “What?”

James’ parts his lips to speak, his Adam's apple going up and down as he ponders on his words. However, a loud crashing sound comes from downstairs, and soon a bright, almost blinding light enters the room. A patronus in the form of a Phoenix. 

“He has fallen…. Riddle is dead.” Dumbledore’s voice echoes like a faraway hallucination, Sirius scrambles to stand, pushing the cig over the ashtray. “Location 3. Location 3.”

James jumps off the bed, running to take his trousers and put them on. Remus comes stumbling to the room, usual emotionless eyes staring wide open in shock. The patronus fades into nothingness at their lack of answers, and they remain frozen looking at one another almost in fear of breaking the fantasy of what they just heard. 

“Is he…” James clears his throat, very slowly lowering his jumper over his head. “Could this be a trap?”

Remus only shakes his head, but doesn’t offer a logical answer like he normally would’ve done time ago–when his words were a balm to your and all of their war-driven anxieties. 

“Well,” Sirius says, pushing past Remus to walk up to the closet, shaky hand reaching for a shirt so harshly the hanger flies off. “There’s only one way to find out. Location 3 is here, whether it is good or bad, we must be ready.”

Remus and James share a look, but both follow Sirius down to the sitting room in silence. Where, ever so faintly, a quiet tinkling sound increases in sound–a pattern well known among Order members to announce their arrival to a secret location. James swallows down a relieved sigh and mirrors his boyfriends’ stances, wands drawn and readily pointing at the door. 

However, as it opens, the relieved sigh does leave his lips when Lily walks in with an equally frazzled Marlene in tow, both with red-rimmed eyes searching for answers none of them could offer. 

“Did you receive one, too?” Marlene asks, shaky hands brushing hair away from her tear-streaked face. “Has anyone else arrived?”

Sirius shakes his head, at last lowering his wand. “No.” 

“Do you think they’ll be able to…” Lily hiccups, but stands tall as she wanders around the room. “To tell us? Where they are? Or if they–”

“Shut up, Lily.” Marlene nearly barks, but shakes her head afterwards, lips turning downward in guilt. “Sorry… sorry, I just–just… don’t say that, please.”

But it’s too late, the ever consuming thought lingering between them grows heavy as the silence stretches on. Secret coding and messages are shared as each member arrives, all of them with endless questions at the tip of their tongues and no one to answer them yet. 

Dumbledore’s arrival comes almost an hour later, finding twenty-somethings walking around in dread and anxiety as they wait for him. The old man only makes his way into the cottage in calculated silence, as if testing the tension before launching into explanation. 

James, surprisingly, is the first to snap. “Well?” He raises an eyebrow, knuckles white from holding his wand tightly. “Is he really dead?”

“It appears, so, yes.” Dumbledore nods, making a point of turning to look into everyone’s eyes as the truth settles in the room. “I apologize for my late arrival, I needed to confirm certain details with my spies before coming here to deliver the news.”

“Spies?” Someone asks.

“As in Death Eaters?" Someone follows. 

A diaspora of questions fly around the room, and all it takes to lower its volume is Dumbledore raising a hand ever so calmly to put an end to their questioning. Sirius cuts a quick glance at his boyfriends, both with tense jaws and staring holes into their past headmaster’s head. 

“Many have fallen to serve this cause and secure our victory tonight… Many friends, families, brave people who gave their lives so others may live to see this happen.” He starts, voice monotone and lacking any real comfort to their distress. 

Sirius’ fingers twitch for another cig. 

Dumbledore clears his throat. “Among them,” He says, tone taking a rather tentative edge that has everyone holding their breaths. “Those who walked in the shadows to fight, who tarnished their reputations in order to secure our future, those whose sacrifices we may never fully know–or comprehend.”

“You mean the spies.” Sirius cuts in, arms crossed tight as he glares at the man, who only nods in return. “Who were they?”

None of them miss the way a sorry look passes over his eyes, hand fixing his half-moon glasses as he turns to continue addressing the room. 

“Let us honor our well loved soldiers and friends, Dorcas Meadowes, Regulus Black, y/n y/l/n and Peter Pettigrew in their ever consuming battle to ensure we see the day we’re freed of Riddle’s tyranny.” 

And just like that, Sirius feels like the air has been completely, violently sucked out of him. His chest tightens in a way he has to wheeze to get oxygen through, hand clasping his wand desperately as two sets of hands find his back with equal shakiness to what he feels.

However, Dumbledore continues on as if the well deserved reactions were merely a distraction to the monologue he had prepared to explain their victory. 

“They bravely took on a very dangerous mission that none of them knew if they’d return from–yet they did to honor the cause, for all of you. Let us not forget their sacrifices.”

Sirius blinks. And his anger comes aflame as he nearly pushes his boyfriends away from him.

“You–you made them go?” Sirius seethes, glaring at the man and seeing red. Who, in return, only sends him a sad smile. “You forced her to go?”

“I merely presented the mission. The decision was theirs to make, Mr. Black.”

Marlene stands, her own eyes a fiery shade. “Why them? Why not any of us? Why… why would you do something so selfish?”

“Because they were the most prepared and skilled people in this Order to fulfill this mission–it was imperative for it to be done by them, otherwise it would’ve failed.”

James frowns. “What was the mission?”

“Horcrux hunting.” He replies easily, as if he was back in Hogwarts, explaining a concept to a first year. James’ clenches his fists. “Mr. Black came to me one night, and told me intel about how Riddle apparently split his soul into six objects to remain immortal. However, he couldn’t pinpoint the location of said objects.”

“So you sent them to a bloody scavenger hunt? Is that it?” Lily’s voice snaps, sucking the air out of the room at the anger taking over her words. “Was it successful, at least? Or you just sent them to their own deaths?”

Dumbledore has the gall to smile. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

The Order falls into an almost silent state, thick with whispers and sniffling as some members begin coming off their high at the news of their victory, others in grieving silence as the truth lingers in the atmosphere. Sirius wants them to leave, to get every single person, whether they deserve it or not, out of his home to let him rage and grieve in silence. To drown in his own guilt, his regret at all the times he wrongfully thought you had betrayed them. By the looks of Remus and James, they’re not so far off from breaking as well, it’s only a matter of time. 

Dumbledore clears his throat, but Marlene speaks first. “Were they the ones who killed him?” She asks in a small voice, strained by months of pain and sobbing. “Are they… are they dead, too?”

Every set of eyes fall on the man, who only sighs. “They did, however I can’t tell you who survived and who didn’t.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” James jumps to his feet. “You just said you talked to your spies! Are they dead or not?”

“They weren’t the only spies in our group, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore says in infuriating calmness. “We know as a fact that they were present the moment Riddle was pronounced dead, but they couldn’t tell me who did it–and if they survived.”

Sirius pushes his wand on the back pocket of his jeans. “Who’s this bloody spy? I’ll talk to–” 

A hand holds his arm, with enough strength to pull him back as he takes a step to the door. Remus only shakes his head when he whips his head to meet his gaze. Sirius has half the mind to push him away, to throw cruel words to finish him off, but at the first indication of tears glistening in his boyfriend’s eyes, his shoulders slump. 

“No need for such ruckus, Black. I’m here.” A deadpan voice calls, drowned out by the murmurs and whispers among the group. 

Snape steps out from his place, his presence silencing the room. 

“Ah, Severus,” Dumbledore says, sounding almost relieved at his arrival. Sirius bites back a comment. “What news do you bring?”

Snape’s eyes, ever devoid of emotion, flicker around the room. “Dead, all of them.”

A strained sound comes off James’ lip, denial wrapped in a badly contained sob.“What…? She… she’s dead too?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Sirius says then, before he can stop himself. He shakes his head in anger, taking long strides to Snape before any of his boyfriends or the order members could react. “You’re a bloody liar, Severus–I know you, you’re doing this to taunt me, isn’t it? Is this your well earned vengeance?”

“Sirius.” Lily speaks, her shaky hand comes around his wrist where he’s pointing his wand directly at Snape’s throat. “That’s enough.”  

But Snape only swallows, lips twitching. “I’m sorry, Black.” He says, almost sounding a little sympathetic. “She put up a good fight until the end.” 

Sirius only steps back, reeling in shock. A hand finds his hand, and he’s being pulled away to his usual spot in a wingback by the chimney. His fingers go numb, so does his mind. 

Dumbledore parts his lips to speak, probably at the ready to mutter another vague sentence to cement them in their uncertainty and grief. But then, just to the untrained eye, a simmer begins, increasing in its intensity as the silence stretches on. Remus, already on his feet, draws his wand before any of the order members can realize something shifted. 

Sirius, in all his mildly dissociated state, stiffens visibly at the vibrating under his boots, increasing as he stands. The protection charm goes off then, signaling in a frightening way that someone has crossed the concealed, protected barrier around the cottage. All signals that an unknown presence lingers just outside the meadows where Remus and you had placed the first protection spells. 

Sirius snaps into action, and so does the rest of the order, members apparate away in panic, others take the Floo powder and flee the scene without a second thought–the small group that stays, jump to action with wands drawn pointed in every direction with a hex at the ready.

Except… for a while, nothing happens. The meadow is as still as ever, wheat flowing with the small busts of wind coming from the west, the starry sky tinkles unsuspectingly. 

He’s about to retreat, blaming his paranoid tendencies when he hears it–the quenching sound against the mud, coming in quick, hurried steps as if they were running away from something. 

Then, a flicker. Movement beyond the trees, quick enough to pass in a blur, a figure–no, a shape, half-running out of their hideaway, breath louder and louder the closer they get. A person, covered in red–head to toe–sprinting towards the cottage with utter terror, their eyes a blinding, widened white a stark contrast to their bloodied state. 

Someone growls a warning, probably him. Sirius sees from his peripheral vision as all Kingsley, Moody and Dumbledore lift their wands, Lily and Marlene take a tentative step forward with shaky movements. But Remus and James still, hands lowering just a smidge. He does, too. 

Because they know that run, that gait. 

James takes a step forward, then another, and before anyone can react, you slam against his chest so harshly you tumble backward. His arms move to catch you before he can even comprehend what happened, but you’re already scrambling back on your elbows. Eyes wide with feral terror as your hand hurriedly pats the wheat in search of your wand, snatching it like a lifeline once you find it. You’re panting, chest heaving and eyes wild and dilated with survival, you whirl towards James. 

Wand pointed directly at him. 

James freezes, “Don’t–”

But your hold doesn’t waver, eyes not even looking at him, more like through him, as if assessing his stance. You don’t hear your name in his mouth. 

The moon casts its glow on your form, catching on the sticky and sheen of blood all over you, on your neck, your face. your arms, everywhere. You’re soaked with your blood, or someone else’s, most definitely, wearing it like a second skin as you point your wand up at them. 

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat, and your eyes snap to him, widened and ferocious with adrenaline as you point your wand at him, then at Remus, then back at James. It seems you’re knee deep into your survival instinct that has barely registered to your traumatized mind that you’re not supposed to fear them–that they would never hurt you. 

He holds your crazed gaze, and his chest heaves as you crawl backwards on your elbow, wand still drawn like an injured animal retreating from imminent danger. What sort of hell did she have to claw through in order to survive? Sirius thinks, though he suspects it’s a thought he shares with his boyfriends as they finally lower their wands at you. 

“Put it down,” someone says, voice commanding but far away. Maybe Moody, or even Kingsley, it’s hard to make out the tone. “Put the wand down.”

Your grip doesn’t loosen, you don’t blink. 

James clears his throat, trying to soften his voice. To swallow his sorrow. “Put it down, love.”

If anything, your shaking increases in intensity, leaves crushing beneath your weight as you crawl away from them. Wand still pointed like a lifeline, like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, adrenaline pumping through every fiber of your body with such vigor Sirius knows he’s not the only one picking up its sound. 

At last, he completely lowers his wand with finality, a stark difference to yours as your arm trembles under the weight of your wand, of your instincts to fight. Blood drips from your elbow, fresh, crimson blood. Your jumper is torn, twisted here and there like whoever tried to attack you reached for anything to hold you back. But you don’t move, only your chest up and down as your pants lower in sound until they echo very faintly through the air. 

Remus dares to take a step closer, hands out, leaves crunching under his boot as he moves, and your eyes snap to him, fury and dread mixed with the remains of your last duel echoing behind your gaze. Like you’re still running, still surviving. 

And James–who is seemingly still reeling, chest heaving from where you slammed into it, says your name again. Softly, like a plea. 

“It’s me. James.” He says quietly, voice breaking. 

You blink. Very quickly, like you can’t afford a moment of darkness, of uncertainty. But when your eyes flicker between them, there’s confusion–slow recognition of something distant, a life so far away. Your wand lowers a fraction. 

Another step, leaves crunching closer to you. You crawl back, half of a movement as you whip your wand at Remus, who only gets closer with every release of air from your lips. His scarred hands come into your view, spread in front of him to show his compliance, that he’d never hurt you. 

“D–Don’t,” you mutter, voice cracked and strained, like it pushes through your throat to come out–thick with blood and mud. “Don’t.” 

There’s a flicker of movement, and you turn to point at Moody as he limps to you, your eyes hardening where they meet his eyes. “Identify yourself.” He snarls, pointing his wand at you in return. Then, as if he thinks better of it, “Were you followed?”

“Don’t speak to her like that.” Sirius snaps, withdrawing his wand to his back pocket, away from sight. 

Moody pointedly ignores his jab, holding your glare with one of his own. “Who are you?”

You back away, grip tightening once again around your wand in response. The fight simmering in your veins waiting for the moment to lunge at him, to fight or flight. 

“Did Riddle send you?” He presses, eye twitching when you visibly flinch at the mention of your fallen leader. “To finish us off? Speak.”

You shake your head, swallowing thickly. “I–I didn’t mean to,” you say, voice wavering and at odds with the stoicism in your hold around your wand. “I didn’t… I didn’t–” you falter, so does your arm.

Then, in a second of thick silence, where your erratic breathing slows to a simmer of survival, Remus lowers himself in front of you, shaky hands still spread out in soft warning. Your eyes follow his movements, widened and studying him to find a flaw in his attempt at proximity. Leaves crunch under his knees, which crack as he kneels before you with nothing but care to offer, however you seem too deep into your own head to recognize his comforting presence. 

“Don’t–Don’t,” you whisper, watching with a flicker of confusion as he leans, very slowly, closer to you. The tip of your wand hovers inches in front of his chest. “Please, I… I–Not you, too.”

Remus’ lips twitch, eyebrows furrowing in a faint movement. Then, “Dove...” He says, his own voice barely a whisper and strained over the months he hasn’t spoken. 

You shake your head, blinking furiously as the beginnings of reality come crashing down. Your wand lowers just a smidge, pausing mid-air as your brain manages to register the shape in front of you over the fog of your instinctual dissociation.

Sirius dares to take a step closer as well, moving despite himself, guided by his heart more than his own instincts. Your eyes snap to him, less widened as they, too, register his face for flaws that could uncover his true intentions–he has half the mind to put your mind at ease, to remind you once again they’d never cause you harm. 

That you’ve returned home, however you managed to, but you’ve clawed your way to them.

“I… I didn’t mean to,” you repeat, with less conviction this time, eyes snapping to Remus where he meets your gaze with comfort and patience. Your hand drops between you, silence thickening by the second. “He… He was going to kill us both, I couldn’t–”

Moody mutters something under his breath. Kingsley only hushes him with a hand up, all eyes on Remus’ back where it’s eclipsing you. 

“Who, dove? Who was going to kill you?” Remus asks softly, his own hands lowering as your breathing visibly calms down. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you say again, eyes frantic as your mind refuses to let go of the memories, to let your guard down. But your body has other ideas, stilling as Remus shuffles ever so gently towards you. “I… I didn’t–”

“It’s alright,” he nods, swallowing thickly as his shaky hand comes closer to you. You hold your breath where he places it on your arm, warm hand touching the sticky substance over your skin where the sleeve is torn off. “You’re safe now, you… you’re home.”

Your chest heaves as you inhale sharply, eyes snapping up to meet his gaze. “…Home?”

Remus nods with hopefulness, and you mirror it mostly as a reflex. His hand, trembling, moves up and hovers over your face–not at all phased by the way you flinch inwardly in response. Then, very gently, he places it on the side of your face. Filthy with mud, blood, your body temperature borders on iciness.

James lowers himself by your side, eyes glassy as he studies your bloodied form with a tightness in his chest. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You blink again. “Home, you… you came back.”

A light flickers in your eyes, not quite calm. Not peace, just… recognition. Your lips part, head shaking mostly like a reflex of the fight still simmering under your skin. 

Then, Remus moves again. Slowly, without hesitation as he gathers you into his arms. Blood be damned, flare up aches be damned. Because you’re home, in his arms again, and Sirius, caressing the nape of his neck with his ringed hand, is finally capable of offering comfort after months of nothing but rage. And James is there, crouched next to him, eyes glistening with tears as you slowly return to them not only physically–but emotionally as well. 

…

The chimney has long past casted any warmth since they walked in, James holding your limp form in his arms before you put up a fight against his hold–seemingly slipping in and out of disorientation at their attempts at comforting you. 

Sirius paces once again around the room, pinching the bridge of his nose as they wait for any indication that you’re done doing whatever you’re doing up in the room. You had requested space—and they granted it without a second thought, but even for them it was far too eerily silent to indicate any movement from your part. Almost like you’re not even there.  

Remus is somewhere by the kitchen shakily preparing tea by the stove, passing a sleeve over his eyes to clean the tears that escape his attempts at holding them back. James isn’t so far better, sitting by the chimney with hazel eyes lost on the barely visible fire before him. The room is thick with silence. 

Then, a loud thump noise, and before he can stop himself, Sirius sprints up the stairs, boots stomping on each step as he runs to you–if you’re there, or if your body has finally given out after the fight you crawled out of. Whatever it is, his heart jumps up his throat at the repetition of the same mantra, the same thought that you’re gone again, that you fled. 

When he pushes the door open, his eyes immediately land on the bathroom door, left open ajar in a cruel parallel to the last night he saw you–when he cornered you demanding answers and pointing accusations he had no right in uttering. But now, he’s learned his lesson. He doesn’t wait to knock, only opens it cautiously, almost in fear of whatever he might find. 

Steam fogs the mirror, it’s what he first notices as he steps in–the light is warm, but dimmed and flickering ever so slightly in the corner. You’re hunched over the edge of the tub, bloodied trousers and jumper discarded in a crumbled mess by the sink. As his grey eyes scan the scene, his heart skips a beat when they land upon the fabric clinging to your form, a blue graphic tee you had stolen from James years ago–a relic of another life. 

You inhale sharply, knuckles holding the edge of the tub tightly as your eyes snap to him. “Sorry,” you mumble, swallowing thickly and eyes widened like you had been caught doing something wrong. “Sorry. It’s just, this… this wasn’t here… before.”

His eyes flicker to the tub, then back at you. The water running provides a calm, ever present sound to the silence surrounding you both in the bathroom, droplets of water running down your bloodied arm where it’s holding a sponge in your hand. Crimson red where you’ve tried to scrub your thighs. 

Sirius’ lips part, torn between reminding you the tub has always been there–that you used to love it, and your time alone to take a bath in the midst of the chaos. But, at the faraway look that seems to come and go in your face, he only swallows any comment that would make you close off. 

He clears his throat, “Uh, yeah, it’s… it’s relatively new,” he lies, taking a tentative step inside. He closes the door behind his back. “Are you alright?”

You nod, eyes flickering down at the sponge in your hand, and how it seems to do a futile job to scrub the blood away from your skin. Sirius only wets his lips–salty where his tears had finished their trail down his face moments prior–and extends a hand out, palm open in silent question as he holds your gaze. 

“Do you need help?” He asks softly, pointing at the sponge in your hand. 

He half expects you to flinch back, to reach for your wand where it’s by the floor next to the tub. But your eyes have that foggy quality again, like you’ve slipped into dissociation. He waits, heart thumping loudly as you take a deep, trembling breath before nodding your head very slowly.

Sirius nods in response, sitting on the floor, legs folded uncomfortably under him. And then, very gently, he rolls up his sleeves, like he’s preparing himself to touch something important, something sacred. Your eyes follow his movement, not emitting a word as the back of his cold fingers brush your skin on your abdomen, pinching the hem of your shirt in question. 

“I’m just going to…” he looks down at the bloodied shirt, and you follow his gaze, lips parting like you’ve just realized the state you’re currently in. 

“Yeah, um, sure.” you whisper, raising your arms as he very gently pulls it up and over your head. “Just–just don’t throw it out, please.” 

A lump forms in his throat, and he nods wordlessly as he puts it down by his side on the floor. It pools in a little puddle of blood against the tiles. 

You step into the tub with cautious movements, and Sirius only reaches for the washcloth under the sink, soaking its soft fabric in warm water before wringing it out. 

And so, he begins. 

His hand finds yours, guiding it away from your knees as he takes it in his, passing the washcloth over your skin with tender movements. There’s blood everywhere, between your fingers, under your nails, in the little cracks of skin in your knuckles, traveling all the way up to your forearm. 

The source of it, he suspects–where he half expected a dark mark staring at him in mockery, he only finds burned off flesh and scars like someone had tried to strip you off the skin. Only remains of scars are barely visibly surrounding the poorly tended wound, and he tries to make his movements even more careful as he dabs at it very gently to clean it. 

He moves up its trail to your arm, and your eyes follow each of his movements with such intensity he has to pause a few seconds to allow you some time to yourself, to remember you’re safe. Sirius wishes you’d had this fact well imprinted in your head, but he doesn’t mind reminding you–if pausing his careful cleaning to allow you peace of mind, he will give you all the time you need.

He looks back at your hand, now clean and bare where it rests over the edge of the tub. He tries to not dwell on its nakedness, at the lack of rings–the one you nicked from him back in fourth year, the amethyst one you’ve bought off a street vendor at Diagon Alley, the little, thin ones you’d occasionally use depending on your mood. 

A fear creeps up his body, his veins, taking over his heart as it skips a beat in restraint before he casts a quick glance at your other hand over your knee. Still bloodied and waiting to be cleaned, but most importantly–most heartbreakingly, where it lacks your promise ring. 

His hold on the washcloth loosens just a fraction, and it takes him a small movement from you as you press your knees closer to your chest to shake himself off his despair. Sirius only has a moment to collect himself before you could swat him away–or recoil as you come to your senses and find him so close to you. 

Almost like you would’ve done years ago–when being fussed over was something still new to you. Something they had helped ease you into. 

Sirius cuts a quick glance at you, lips twitching mostly at the memory than at what he finds–your faraway eyes staring a hole into the wall. His thumb brushes at your palm, a smooth motion that causes you to blink at the tiles before turning to meet his gaze. 

He doesn’t ask where the ring is–if you threw it away, or if it was taken from you in a battle. He doesn’t ask why. He just holds your hand gently, like it’s made of glass, like you might dissolve if he lets go–and continues scrubbing. Quietly, lovingly, with aching care.

…

As soon as Sirius jumps down the last step of the stairs, James and Remus are on their feet. Equal widened and red-rimmed eyes staring at him with questions at the tip of their tongues. 

He sighs, eyes glassy, sleeves rolled up, there’s a smudge of blood on his shirt by his stomach where it’s clinging to his skin from warm water. He doesn’t say anything at first, but there’s a wet, bloodied piece of fabric crumpled in his hands.

“She, um,” His voice is thin. He blinks as if to stop the tears from finally cascading down his cheeks. “She asked if we could wash it for her.”

There’s a funny tilt to his voice–faint and almost unrecognizable–he sounds like he could almost laugh in amusement, though it’s hollow when he looks down at the shirt. And it isn’t amusing, because your shirt, the battered and torn thing in his hands, still matters to you despite everything. That you carried a piece of home with you and even now, when you’re safely back, you’re pleading for him to take care of that piece that anchored you to them. 

There’s a faint creak as the door opens upstairs. Then, tiptoeing the floodboards silently, you appear by the end of the stairs. They freeze. Your hand clasps your wand by your side as you climb down in careful, calculated steps, before meeting them by the sitting room. Wide eyes flickering between them in a manic albeit less alert manner like you’re calculating each of their movements as much as they are to yours.

Remus almost parts his lips to speak, probably knee deep in a memory as his eyes clock your bare feet against the freezing floor. The fabric of the clothes Sirius laid out for you swish softly with every tentative step you take.

Your fingers twitch around the wand, seemingly stuck in defense or attack at the sight of three boys in front of you. Sirius’ chest heaves when you take a tentative step back in reflex. 

James clears his throat, “It’s alright–you… you’re safe. See?” He spreads his hands open, then points at Remus and Sirius, who mirror him unconsciously. “No wands.”

Your eyes scan each of them in silence, and your grip loosens just a smidge, imperceptible to the untrained eye–but they are completely attuned to you, despite the months away, they can notice your tells, your fidgeting. Doesn’t help that your heart is going a kilometer per hour, with no indication of slowing down any time soon. 

“My… my clothes?” you turn to Sirius, who blinks back the tears when he meets your gaze. He looks down at his hands, at your crumpled shirt. “My necklace… it was in my jumper. I–I need it.”

“Your necklace?” Sirius echoes dumbly, eyes falling to your chest just barely visible over the hem of your oversized shirt. You nod. “I haven’t thrown them out, let me… I’ll check.”

You nod, bringing your hand to your forearm, nails scratching the tender flesh of your wound. James frowns when he notices the wince in your face when you touch it.

“Don’t… You’ll get it infected,” he manages, voice coarse like it had been scraped out. 

At last, he snaps into action, so does Remus as each reaches for the healing potions they prepared for you while Sirius helped you get cleaned up. Your eyes follow their movements, and it seems to take you an enormous amount of courage to prompt your feet to move forward, tiptoeing your way to the couch in careful motion. James visibly swallows the lump in his throat at your evident distrust for them.

A scarred hand squeezes his wrist as he unpacks the bandages, and he’s eternally grateful when he looks up to find kind, amber red-rimmed eyes staring at him with softness. He clears his throat, and continues with his task as Remus moves and lets go to fully turn to you, washcloth at the ready wet with his healing potion of choice. 

You’re nearly pushed deep between the cushions, leg bouncing with apparent nervousness as your eyes scan each boy inquisitively–like your brain knows they’re safe, they’re yours, and yet your body keeps betraying you, rejecting any feeling of comfort they offer. 

“It’ll sting a bit, okay?” Remus whispers, patient hand open until you offer your wounded arm. As your eyes flicker from his hand to him, he tries to make his voice extra soft. “Would you like some calming draught?”

“No.” You shake your head quickly, placing your arm over his hand in response. He startles at your immediate compliance. “No calming draughts.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” he nods, dabbing the washcloth on your arm very gently. You still wince.

Remus continues dutifully dabbing at your wound, amber eyes patient and gentle hand stopping when a specific movement snaps you back into survival mode, yanking your arm away from him. It’s okay, he says every time–he’s well aware of the intimacy of getting healed up. He wishes you could remember how you’d done the same to him countless times after violent full moons. 

Sirius emerges from the back of the kitchen a moment later, torn jumper in his hands and a face like he can’t quite understand where you could possibly leave your necklace–by his pinkish fingers, it’s obvious he tried to save you the hassle of searching for it yourself. But to no avail, there’s no glistening or indication that said necklace got tangled up with the fabric. He doesn’t really have the heart to tell you it’s probably lost, maybe during your escape.

Instead, he walks up to you, stopping to give you your wished space. “I… I couldn’t find the necklace, I’m sorry.” Love, he almost says. But bites his tongue, his heart cracks. 

Despite everything, you don’t seem devastated by this fact. Free arm reaching for the jumper when he hands it over to you. Both James and Remus pause on their healing when you place it over your knees, smudging your skin with the mud and blood clinging to the fabric. You’re not deterred though, eyes intense and nimble fingers working over the threads until the jumper is torn into pieces. There, in a hidden pouch none of them can comprehend you managed to knit, you take out a large, thin chain with a ring hanging at the end. 

Your promise ring.

The air is sucked out of the room–and their chests, as you push the fabric away to put the necklace over your head. It’s so long it nearly reaches your sternum, shining under the dimmed lights of the sitting room. 

James exhales sharply, “You… you kept it? All this time?” 

You nod, chewing at your lower lip. He swallows thickly, fingers fidgeting with the bandages in his lap. 

Remus only wets his lips, blinking in surprise when you wordlessly stretch your arm back at him to resume his healing. He lowers the washcloth again, and tries to not think about his own promise ring glistening against the damp fabric. 

“It’s charmed–they… they would’ve taken it away if they found it.” you reply quietly, almost in fear. None of them dare to question who’s they. “It was easier to keep it in a necklace.”

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat, blinking as he looks down at his own hands. The silence stretches on as Remus continues patiently cleaning your arm, multitasking as his warm eyes scan you for any other wound that may need tending to. 

When he blindly opens a hand to James, asking for the bandage, James only clears his throat. “Is it okay if it…?” He points at your arm, and Remus looks up to meet his gaze with surprise. He nods, but tilts his head at you where you remain silent looking at the now dead chimney in front of you. 

He calls your name softly, and you snap your head to meet their gazes, blinking as if to clear the fog from your mind. James only shuffles closer where he’s sitting over the coffee table, movements slow and tentative as he fidgets with the bandages.

“Is it okay if I…?” He points at your arm, now fully tended and skin slowly healing around your wound. 

You swallow, eyeing him more curiously than apprehensively, arm now clutched to your chest. Remus tuts, very slowly detaching it where the sticky potion on your skin clung to your shirt. James winces, and you watch in silence as he dabs the washcloth again. None of them make a comment, they begin healing your arm again. 

When Remus deems it fixed, they blink in surprise when you turn to James expectantly. His hands are still holding onto the bandages like a lifeline, and all it takes is a gentle nudge from Remus and Sirius clearing his throat for him to snap out of his shock. He shuffles closer to place the first bandage over your forearm, his hazel eyes landing on the remains of ink around the wound–like whoever caused it had tried to burn off a tattoo… a mark. 

You draw back into yourself in shame, eyes scanning his face for a reaction when his hand stops. James clears his throat, making a point of sending you his most comforting smile–the one you had said you secretly loved years ago–before resuming his work around your forearm. No questions asked. 

However, your shame has other intentions.

“They… they burned it off when they realized I was a spy.” you mumble, looking away from them. You withdraw your arm from James’ hold, clutching it back to your chest. “Healing charms aren’t really my strength.” 

They all share a look, all seemingly shocked. No one could do a healing charm better than you. Before. 

“Reg… Regulus tried to tend to it but we didn’t have much time.” you cut a quick glance at Sirius, who stiffens visibly at the mention of his brother. You wet your lips nervously, fingers twitching around your forearm as an unconscious tick. “We… we had to run, we had to destroy the locket.”

Sirius frowns. “What locket?”

You flinch very faintly at his interruption, and he has half the mind to mutter an apology when his boyfriends throw warning looks at him. However, you only swallow thickly, eyes flickering between each boy.

“The… the last horcrux.” you say, each word tilting in a tentative way as you look at him, as if gauging his reaction. “When we got to the cave…. he–he said he’d destroy it, that he would replace it with a fake one.” 

As you speak, your hold around your wand tightens, knuckles turning white as if the mere memory is pulling you away from reality–like you’re back at that cave fighting for your life. A silver lining of tears appears in the corners of your eyes, shining despite your futile attempt at blinking them away. 

You swallow, “It was a trap–he… he was there, they were there–ready for us. Riddle.” you whisper, though your breathing takes momentum with each word. You don’t flinch when James’ thumb brushes the skin just shy of your bandage. “K–Kreacher tried to hold them off, but… but they were stronger. We were outnumbered.”

Remus’ eyebrows pinch slightly, as if he can’t decide if he’s sympathetic or plain angry for you, for everything you had to endure. He schools his face as the first signs of movement pass from his peripheral vision, Sirius moving to sit by your side in intense silence–his own eyes hardening with every word you mutter. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you repeat, the same mantra you’ve whispered like a plea since you crashed back into their lives. “I… I only wanted us to survive, I didn’t mean to–” 

Your hand trembles, knee resuming its bouncing under James’ touch. His own promise ring glistens with each movement, though its love charm does nothing to slow the upcoming anxiety that’s pumping in your veins. 

Remus lowers his head, searching for your eyes. “You didn’t mean to what, dove?”

You swallow, frantic eyes flickering from his soft eyes to James then Sirius, each boy pouring everything they can to hold back their tears at your evident distress. 

“I… I didn’t mean to kill them all. It was.. I didn’t… I didn’t know what else to do,” you say quickly, almost in one single breath like the words are pushing to be said at once. Like you’re desperate for them to hear your side of the story, to grant you at least the grace to explain. “I didn’t know it would happen that way–the curse… the curse Regulus taught me, he said only to use it in case it was necessary. I didn’t–I didn’t think it would end that way.” 

They lean back, but James’ fingers gently press over your knee, moving up until his hand is holding yours with one tentative move. His sad, teary eyes scan your face and the way it twists in pain as you retell the hell you endured to get to them–he suspects it’s only the tip of something worse, something more sinister none of them will ever be able to understand. The horrors you clawed your way through to ensure Riddle would fall. 

“What curse, my love?” he whispers, pointedly searching for your gaze. You look away, throat closing up as your breathing comes in quick puffs of air. “Hey, it’s alright–you’re alright. You don’t have to say more, not if you don’t want to.”

“It… uh,” you press your lips together, looking down at your shaking hands in fear. Your hand drops the wand like it burns your skin. “It was called sectumsempra… Snape taught it to him, said it was a dark curse he created to, uh, to create imminent death and suffering–that’s what he said. I wouldn’t–”

They nod. “I know.” James smiles softly, mostly for your sake. 

The thing is, months ago, they knew you wouldn’t, that you’d never inflict harm to someone else–not even if they deserved it. But now? 

You look down at your hands, which moments prior were stained with someone else’s blood–hell, even Riddle’s blood if they really think about it, if they connect the dots. 

Sirius shuffles next to you, energy coursing through his body and nowhere to channel it–his anger, his frustration, his grief… Now that he knows your true purpose in the war, where will all those feelings go? Is he even allowed to feel them at all?

“Regulus… he… he didn’t–” you whisper, not daring to search for his eyes. James’ thumb brushes the back of your hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Sirius nods, the movement prompting the tears hanging by a thread on his eyelids to finally cascade down his cheeks. A sniffle, and his fingers twitch to hold your face in his hands–to show you he would never blame you. “I know, love. It’s okay.”

You pull your legs up, hugging them close to your chest in response, desperately trying to make yourself smaller between the cushions–if it’s physically possible. 

Remus’ lips twitch as he scans your heavy eyelids and the way you slump back into yourself against the couch. Exhaustion making its way into your body before you can even let yourself accept it–but so does your shame, coursing through you like it’s the only emotion you’re allowing yourself to feel.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, voice wavering like the weight of your guilt is shredding its way up your throat. You swallow nervously. “I didn’t mean to leave, I… I didn’t want to.”

Three things happen at once at your words. Sirius looks away in shame–unable to control his tears as he passes a trembling hand over his face. Remus, who had been characteristically quiet during your confession, stands from his sitting position, thumbs pressing hard at his eyes with such harshness the tears roll down his cheeks anyway. And James? He finally breaks–after months of denial, he finally lets his heart accept the grief and heartbreak his mind denied every single day since your departure. 

Your hand flies to the necklace against your sternum, fidgeting with it almost unconsciously as your eyes flicker from each boy with something akin to guilt–the only feeling strong enough to overpower your shame. 

“I wanted to tell you. I–I promise, many times I almost did.” you continue, swallowing sobs that are fighting their way up your throat. “I’m sorry.”

Then, another thing happens. You break. 

“I’m really sorry, I… I didn’t think I’d ever come back,” you take a breath, your other hand joining the one gripping the necklace on your palm. Both hands desperately hold it like a lifeline, like it could simmer your pain and theirs altogether. “I thought–I just thought it’d be better if–if I just left. I didn’t want to… to be another fatality… another tragedy to mourn.”

You wet your lips, now salty with tears. And when you open your mouth to speak, to continue, a sob comes out instead. High and strained like it had been kept captive in your throat for months, and, apparently, it’s all it takes to activate your survival instinct once again–you clasp a hand against your mouth. You close your eyes and breathe slowly as if to calm yourself down, to make your pain smaller in order to stay alive. 

You press your face against your thighs, swallowing thickly as you control your breathing, slowing it down to quiet and shorts exhales of air. Voice very low as you whisper calming mantras to yourself. All it does is break their hearts further as they watch in agony as you regulate yourself like someone that has endured indescribable horrors.

A hand, very tentatively, finds your shoulder, moving in gentle strokes as you slowly come down your spiraling. You drop your hands from your chest, the necklace returning to its resting place as you look up to meet Sirius’ equally teary eyes–his eyelashes wet with unshed tears as his hand travels up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing at the dampness of your face. 

“You don’t have to be sorry… or explain.” he whispers very softly, making a point of searching for your eyes when you look down. “Just–don’t ever think you’d be better off gone. I–We would’ve never thought of you as a fatality…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, mostly as a reflex. 

He nods, thumb intercepting the tear cascading down your cheek. “I know, love… I know.” 

“You… you battled worse than us, and faced horrors we’d never understand. Alone. And you came back… you came back despite everything.” Remus steps in, hands wringing together in evident distraction, but his amber eyes remain fixed on yours. “That’s more than enough, dove. You’re here… alive. And that is what matters to us right now.”

“I… I,” your lower lip trembles, and you shut your mouth to stop any other sound from coming out. They all share a look. “I’m sorry.” 

They all nod, almost in unison. And you mirror it unconsciously, mostly like you’re convincing yourself more than them. Sirius hands drop from where they cradled your face, and your head rests over the back of the couch, eyelids dropping as if your body is finally allowing itself to give in to your exhaustion. 

James calls your name softly, clearing his throat as he passes a quick hand over his eyes. He sends you his most comforting smile when you pick up your head to meet his gaze. 

“Ready to get some rest?” his smile widens when you nod, looking more sure in yourself with your decision. Remus’ lips twitch as well, though he tuts softly when you shift on the couch to lay down to sleep. “Oh–no, we prepared you a room. If that’s okay.”

You pause, looking up to meet his gaze in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Sirius breathes out, voice tilting, once again, in suppressed amusement at your reaction. Remus sends him a look. “Of course. We thought it’d be better than this ratty thing.” 

“Now, Sirius, no need to insult my couch.” James jokes half-heartedly, it doesn’t really land–especially when you’re looking around the cottage with wide eyes. He stands slowly, hand open for you. “Come, lovie, let’s get you to your room.” 

You send both Sirius and Remus a quick look, as if assessing their stances before taking James’ hand, who doesn’t let go even as you climb up the stairs by his side. They watch in silence as he ever so gently guides you through your own home, like you’re a ghost visiting after a long night. Their hearts twist lovingly when James’ arm comes around your back, supporting your weight when you trip over the carpet. 

“Oh, careful there,” he smiles, his own heart skipping a bit when your hand reaches for his forearm as a reflex. “I’ve been meaning to fix that–I just know Moony will be scolding me later.” 

Your lips twitch, head tilting to look behind your shoulder where Sirius and Remus are observing from the bottom of the stairs with twin glassy eyes. Their hands clasped together and promise rings offering comfort to one another. 

James smiles at you, and guides you deep into the hallway, arm spread open at the door just across their room–your shared old room, mind you. He swallows the quip, smile dimming when you step into the guest room with tentative steps. 

“I… I forgot this room existed,” you mumble, looking around as you sit down over the bed. James studies your movements, heart cracking at how out of place you look. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah, we never use this room much,” he fixes his glasses, looking away as you turn to get into the covers. The bedding looks insanely colorful in contrast with your dulled skin. “or, well, unless one of us forgets to empty the bin. Then it’s got plenty of use.”

Your lips quirk ever so faintly, looking down as your hand moves around the covers, testing its softness against your skin. James swallows nervously, shifting his weight with awkwardness–he used to have tons of things to say to you, now he finds himself scared of even cracking a joke. He wonders if whatever he comes up with would even make you laugh. 

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’ll just… uh, we’ll be across the hall.” 

You nod, and he steps backwards, sending you one last smile. “Thank you, Jamie.” you say quietly, and he almost trips over his own feet as he makes his way out. “Oh, um, please don’t… don’t close the door.” 

His hand hovers just over the knob at your request, pausing mid-air where he had reached to close the door. “Of course, yeah. That’s okay.”

“Thank you.” 

“Goodnight, lovie.”

“You, too.”  

James only walks out, leaving the door open behind him as he climbs down the stairs, his straight and relaxed posture crumbles with each step closer to his boyfriends–who readily embrace him as he finally breaks down. His quiet sobs mix with their sniffles as they all come down the high of seeing you again–at the cost of your sanity. 

“It’s okay, love–she’s alright.” Remus whispers, his scarred hands thumbing at the tears cascading down James’ cheeks. His own red-rimmed eyes sting with tears. “She’s alright, she’s here.”

The bespectacled boy nods, sniffling quietly. The ringed hand at his back, moving in comforting circles and warming his skin with aching care–Sirius continues his dutiful work to comfort him until James’ back stops shaking, his sniffles subduing to short exhales. The sitting room falls into a silence as they collect pieces of each other, love poured into each whisper and comforting word. 

Remus steps back, managing to force a half-smile on his face. “Let’s call it a night, yeah?” He tilts his chin promptly at the stairs. “We’ll face tomorrow. Together.” 

“All of us.” Sirius adds quietly, pressing a quick kiss over James’ cheekbone. Not at all minding the dampness he finds. 

But first they all bask in each other’s hold–something they hadn’t done since you left. Since they thought they weren’t worthy of love or compassion without you to share it with as well. 

“Come on,” Remus half-smiles, guiding James up the room like he had done to you. He sends Sirius a quick look as they climb up the stairs. 

Sirius follows wordlessly after a while, watching with several healed cracks in his heart as his boyfriends share comforting whispers to one another as they walk to their room–pausing just enough to send you a quick look from the hallway into the guest room. 

He sighs deeply, turning off the lights of the sitting room before climbing up each step of the stairs, passing the wall of photographs he usually wouldn’t have the courage to even glance at. Mementos of your shared life before the war–before you were taken from them because of your selfless and courageous nature.

He brushes a hair behind his ear, trying not to think about the way you used to do it time ago–and pauses just by the threshold of the guest room, leaning sideways to allow himself a selfish moment to bask in your peace. 

His eyes fill with tears once again at the sight of you, finally home, sleeping peacefully after months and months of indescribable horrors. Sirius’ hand reaches for his own promise ring, not looking away from your curled up form. Your own hand is clasping your ring unconsciously, love charm warms your skin and tethers you to them even in your sleep. 

The adrenaline, despite everything, is still simmering slightly through his veins–but so does another thing. Forgiveness. 

At you. For, even if he still doesn’t fully understand your reasons, leaving to fight a war not only against the tyranny of blood supremacy, but against every single person that ever put your right of existence into question. 

At James, for denying himself the power of feeling your absence and protecting himself and his boyfriends with the optimism of hoping you’d return. 

At Remus, who spent every waking moment imploding inwardly and keeping his pain to himself instead of overbearing him or James with it, who punished himself with silence in hopes you’d return one day to hear his voice again. 

And at himself, for the rage and frustration he put out into the world and his boyfriends at the cause of your disappearance. For thinking, for one moment of pure idiocy, that you’d ever willingly leave them without putting up a fight first. 

James

the moment was silly really, both of you being giggly and playful. you were on top of james, both stripped of your clothes, down to your underwear, in the middle of a heated makeout session. you couldn't help the slight movement of your hips on his, feeling him hard beneath you. you were grinding down just enough to elicit a deep and breathy moan from james.

"oh sorry," you said, breaking to catch your breath. you thought for a moment, deciding to lean into the playful mood. "it's just, i couldn't feel it, it's just so small." you giggled.

james's brows shot up and he smirked up at you. "oh yeah?" he replied and before you knew it you were flipped in an instant, the room spinning as james pinned you beneath him. with the positions now reversed, he ripped your panties from your body, shoving his boxers down and lining himself up with your enterance. you were taken off guard, gasping as he slid himself through your folds and coated himself in your arousal.

"you wanna take that back?" james asked. you hesitated for a second, and james took this as his sign to slam into you, the stretch burning so good. he instantly found his mark as he hit your g-spot over and over again, not taking his time, not giving you time to catch up.

your back arched and you cried out, dragging your nails down jame's back in response. james hooked your legs over his arms, pistoning in and out of you at a rapid speed. nothing but james's name and pornagraphic moans fell from your lips, filling the room along with the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

he was clearly proving you wrong, joke or not. reaching spots inside you that you didn’t even know were there.

“j-jaaamess!” you cried as he hit that spot deep inside you, making your eyes roll back.

“i’m gonna ask you again,” he said, tone lowering an octave, husky and seductive. “you wanna take that back?” he punctuated each word with a harsh thrust into you, your poor pussy being abused for your earlier mistake in thinking he would take the joke.

“yes, yes-fuck,” you sobbed, “i didn’t mean it!”

james’s smug face lowered to yours, stopping a hairs width away. “yeah,” he said, pausing his thrusts to gently place a quick kiss to your lips, “that’s what i thought.”

Sirius

sirius had added a messily written 'condoms' onto your grocery list which allowed for the perfect opportunity to mess with him.

"condoms?" you asked, standing in the doorway to your bedroom and waving the grocery list.

sirius chuckled, half naked with a towel wrapped around his waist, fresh out of the shower. "yeah, we used the last of them last night." he stated, throwing a wink in the mix.

"oh, ok well," you paused, stepping into the room, "what size? medium?"

sirius raised a brow and scoffed. "medium?'' he repeated back to you. you tried your absolute best not to crack, not to give up the joke just yet. "do you think i have a medium dick, sweetheart?"

you glanced down to where the towel covered him, as if you had x-ray vision and shrugged. "i mean, its average."

sirius's jaw dropped, he too looked down, envisioning what was beneath the towel. "average!?"

you gave him a teasing pout, "oh, baby," you cooed, "its ok. the big ones scare me anyway." with that you couldn't help the smirk that creeped on your face.

before you knew it, you were on your knees in front of sirius, towel long forgotten, dick shoved down your throat. it was a joke, but you were wrong, dead wrong, sirius was definitely not medium.

you could feel his size in the way your jaw ached to accommodate him, in the way you constricted around his mushroom tip that he was forcing down your throat over and over. tears fell openly down your cheeks at the burn.

"oh baby,” he mocked, “whats a matter?" he looked down at you, giving you a faux pout as he forced you to take more of him. your hands flew to his thighs, nails digging in and making sirius hiss in reply. "what happened? you were so feisty a moment ago. cat got your tongue?"

he pulled back slightly, not all the way, just enough for you to gasp down some air. gagging and coughing, you looked up at him through your tear damp lashes, silently pleading for him to ease up.

"you wanna take what you said back?" he asked, a bite to his tone.

you nodded your head the best you could with his hand gripping your hair and his cock shoved down your throat.

"good," he hummed, "then lets keep that mouth full so nothing stupid comes out of it again, yeah?"

Remus

you were feeling a bit more on the brave side today, otherwise you would have never said it, never tested him like this.

he was already fucking you, manhandling you from position to position. his trusts were precise and calculated, each one a pleasureful assault on your cervix.

he flipped you, on your hands and knees now as he adjusted, lining up with your entrance again before plunging in.

it took everything in you not to moan out at the sensation, biting your tongue as you waited until he bottomed out before asking, "is it in yet?"

remus paused for a moment, everything still and tension in the air. he laughed behind you. to be fair, he probably did find it funny, but he couldn't let you get away with that, couldn't let a comment like that slide.

that's how you find yourself on the ground, facing your floor length mirror in the corner of your bedroom, chest pressed to the ground and hips being held by remus fucking into your already abused cunt. you had a perfect view of him railing you, watching with lust blown eyes as his dick split you in half.

"r-remmy," you whined out, feeling your walls clench around him.

"nah," he panted "don't 'remmy' me." he drove himself into you harder as if to prove his point. "you did this to yourself."

you fisted the fluffy rug beneath you, gripping the fabric to ground yourself to something as you felt your orgasm fast approaching.

remus grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up, your back meeting his chest as he continued. he forced you to look down at where the two of you connected, seeing the prominent bulge in your lower tummy as he pounded into you over and over.

you moaned at the sight, at the feeling, at everything.

"look at that," he said into your ear, his breathing ragged and strained from the workout he was getting, "theres your fuckin' proof its in, yeah?"

Remus flicked the ashes of his cigarette out of the bedroom window, smoke leaving his lips along with a chuckle. "Yeah, right."

Sirius shrugged as he took a drag from his cigarette. "The results speak for themselves."

James, who didn't smoke because it would taint his athlete lungs (as he so humbly put it), propped one leg up as he backed up against the bed frame, adjusting his position on the floor. "You fucking wish."

"I could do that if I tried. You're not special, Pads. I just don't because I know it would be too much for a girl, especially around the full moon," Remus said.

"Oh here he goes again with his rough sex werewolf shit," James threw his hands up in the air, getting a laugh from Sirius.

"Stay jealous, Prongs. Stay jealous," Remus replied.

"Never made a girl squirt though, have you? You stay jealous, Moons," Sirius challenged.

"Surely you know that we do not believe you," James said.

Sirius sighed, leaning back onto his mattress, propping himself up on his elbows. "Well, when her cum shot all over my face, it did feel pretty fuckin' unbelievable."

"Just because virgins think you're good in the sack doesn't mean you are," Remus chimed back in, "how are they supposed to know that there's so much better out there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sirius said, leaning back up and tilting forward in Remus's direction, "I didn't realize you have a history of fuckin' making virgins squirt. I didn't realize this topic was so familiar to you, how dare I."

"It can't be that hard to make a virgin squirt, Sirius, I'm feelin' like that's pretty easy," James said.

"The real challenge is with experienced girls," Remus said, blowing more smoke out of the window, "You think you're all that? Get back to me when you make someone impossible to please come. Not even to squirt, just to come."

Sirius diverted his gaze from Remus to James, who looked to Remus, who looked back at James, who then turned to Sirius. "That a challenge?" Sirius asked.

"Maybe it is."

"Well if I'm gonna try, you're gonna try, you fucking asshole," Sirius told Remus.

"What, is James just off the hook? We all know he can't do it anyways."

James threw his hands up again. "I can do it."

"Okay, so pick a girl," Sirius said, raising his brows in challenge.

In a mocking voice, Remus joked, "but how will we ever find a girl that sex god Sirius Black can't please?"

"You think Y/N would do it?" James asked.

"You don't think that might ruin our friendship?" Remus questioned.

"Let's review," James said, standing up and beginning to count his points on his fingers, "one, we've all been friends with her for forever, so she trusts us. Two, we all know she's got experience, and we know there's a bunch of guys who haven't been able to make her come. Three, she doesn't strike me as someone who would get attached and ruin our friendships over sex. And four, perhaps the most important of all: she's hot and we all wanna fuck her."

"How the fuck do we even broach that subject?" Sirius asked, "are we supposed to ask her to let us fuck her as a competition? Do we just try to kiss her and see where it leads? This is Y/N for fucks sake."

"Correct," Remus responded, "it`'s just Y/N. I feel like it'll be way easier to ask her than some other random girl."

"Oh, Sirius has no problem asking random girls for sex," James joked, though he was serious.

"The only reason we're friends with Y/N is because she turned you down, do you remember that, Jamie?" Sirius shot back.

"She didn't turn me down, jackass, she was in a relationship. Otherwise, I would have for sure gotten to hit that."

"Big bad James and his big bad muscles on the big bad Quidditch team, ok then," Remus joked, "irresistible to all girls. Oh wait! Except for one."

"If you're jealous of my body, Moons, just say it. This," he gestured down his torso, "takes a lot of work."

"You're really talking yourself up when my skinny ass gets more girls than you do, and more boys too, for that matter. I'm sorry, which one of us has had sex with the majority of your Quidditch team? Oh, not you? Weird," Remus responded.

“You know that fraternization on the team would be frowned upon, why would you say that when you know-“

“Oh relax,” Remus cut James off.

“Doesn’t matter how many guys you get, Moons, you still can’t make Y/N come.”

“What are we, just going off the honors system here? I already don’t believe Sirius made someone squirt, you two want me to believe you if you just say you did it? Where’s the proof?” James questioned.

“Proof? What do you want us to do, suck her cum up in a syringe, you fucking weirdo?” Remus replied.

“No no, it’s a fair point,” Sirius chimed in, “I don’t believe half the shit you tell me anyway.”

“Ok, so what do you wanna do then? Fuck her at the same time?” Remus asked.

James and Sirius exchanged a long glance.

“You two aren’t serious.”

James and Sirius both shrugged.

“I’m not fucking her with you two idiots in the room ruining it,” Remus said.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Sirius said, “I’d only make it better. For her especially.”

“Would not.”

“Would too.”

“You think you’re such a fucking sex god-“

“It’s not a little weird to fuck the same girl at the same time? What are we gonna do, take turns?” James asked.

“She’s got three holes,” Sirius said.

“Okay, but the entire point of fucking her is to see who can actually make her come, idiot,” Remus said, “so obviously that doesn’t matter. I’m not sticking my dick somewhere that I’ll be able to feel one of yours, guys.”

“Why not?” James asked genuinely.

“Because, because-“

“Because, because, come on, Rem, it’s only weird if you make it weird. I’ve seen your dick before.”

“Me changing in front of you is not the same as us fucking someone at the same time.”

“The thought of watching her get railed by one of us doesn’t do anything for you?” James asked.

Remus blinked, unable to cohesively think of a rebuttal. “I mean.”

“Mhm,” Sirius nodded.

“Okay, so it’s agreed, we’re all gonna fuck her with the rest of us there so we have proof we aren’t lying, and we’re gonna see who can make her come,” James said.

“What if we can all make her come?” Remus asked.

“Then whoever does it first?” James tried.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, I mean what if she comes harder for one of us? Once she comes it’s gonna be too easy to make her come again. Like that’s not a good gage,” Sirius said.

“No no, we share space equitably. No one hogs any part of her. Whoever makes her come first, wins,” Remus said.

“Wins what, exactly?” Sirius said.

James shrugged. “Let’s let her decide.”

────── ☾ ──────

Your gaze diverted between the three boys in front of you, your book laying open in your lap as you adjusted your cross-legged position on the common room couch. “Are you joking?”

“Nope,” said Sirius.

You processed for a few moments. “Okay, and what exactly do you get if you make me come first?” you asked.

James dipped his head and smirked. “We were uh- we were actually gonna let you decide that one.”

You raised your brows. “You were, were you?”

“…Yeah.”

You nodded your head up and down, thinking and processing. “And you all just assumed I’d say yes?”

“Honestly I don’t think we ever got that far,” Remus admitted.

“Right, right,” you said, “right.”

“You can say no, you know,” Sirius said.

You turned toward him. “I know.”

“So are you saying no?” he asked.

“No,” you replied, quicker than you anticipated.

“Are you saying yes?” Sirius pressed.

You pondered Sirius’s question. “Can I have a day or two to think about it?”

“Of course, of course,” James said.

Luckily you had plans in Hogsmeade the next day, which gave you an opportunity to give the boys an answer.

When Dorcas and Mary left the Hog’s Head early to “work on some overdue assignments,” you were left alone with the boys.

“So I have an answer for you,” you said.

“Already?” Remus said.

“Yeah, already, jackass.”

“And?”

“I’m down.”

All three boys exchanged glances. “Yeah?”

“Don’t act so surprised. You said no strings, you guys are hot, and fuck if I don’t need a good orgasm. The boys around here don’t do it for me, as you well know.” You’d tipsily told them several times how none of the boys at school could make you come.

“And you think we can?”

“If you’re really gonna try this hard, I think at least one of you has a shot. With all the sex you have? Please. If one of you can’t make me come, no one can. It’s worth a shot, and three tries is better than one.”

“Oh, so you’re using us?” Sirius joked.

“Mm, only because you guys wanted to use me first,” you lightheartedly shot back.

“Fair enough,” Sirius surrendered.

The conversation quickly shifted when butterbeers and pumpkin juices arrived, and all attention turned toward drinking games and late-night escapades.

As you walked through the cool-breezed, darkened streets of Hogsmeade, you took note of the lack of people around. You were sure the boys didn't notice.

"Where are you going?" Remus asked, watching you drift toward an alleyway.

You made a come-hither motion at the boys as you stepped into the alleyway, scanning quickly for any sign of life and finding none.

"What are you-" you grabbed Remus's face, cutting him off with a kiss. Without a second thought, Remus's hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him on instinct.

Both you and Remus were experienced enough to turn the kiss into a heated exchange quickly. You bit his bottom lip, and in turn, he took the moment of disconnection to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He took steps forward, backing you up until your back collided with the outer brick siding of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Remus pulled away, thinking he had slammed your body into the wall too hard, but you immediately pulled him back. His body had no choice but to respond immediately, his hand holding the side of your jaw in place as his lips traveled down to the side of your neck.

The gap of his face in front of yours allowed you time to open your eyes and see Sirius and James watching the exchange intently.

"Guess Remus is going first then?" you teased.

"No, no, that's not the arrangement," Sirius said, "we all said no hogging. We all get equal shots. Move the fuck over."

Sirius grabbed your throat and pulled you forward into a kiss, causing Remus to stumble to the side in defeat.

Remus gestured to James to do what was just done to him to Sirius, but James wasn't one to fight for attention. James was one to wait until he was wanted, and until you were begging from attention from him. He would wait his turn patiently.

"Heathens," he snickered, "let her breathe for 2 seconds, would ya?"

Sirius pulled away, but his hand remained on your throat. "I'm sorry, I don't see you winning right now, do I? Shut up and maybe you'll learn something."

He resumed kissing you, and his hand dropped from your throat, tracing down your body until it landed between your legs. He pulled away to look into your eyes. You gave him a "yes" nod to signal that you consented to his touches.

That was the moment Remus decided he was done standing there like an idiot.

He dropped to his knees directly beside Sirius, tracing his fingers tauntingly slowly up your thighs, aiming for under your house-colored skirt.

Sirius noticed his efforts, and their hands collided directly on your underwear.

Like petulant little boys, you felt Sirius smack Remus's hand away, then Remus's hand smack him back, and then Sirius pulled his hand out from under your shirt and smacked Remus on the side of the head.

"Ass," Remus said his body moving sideways, causing his hand to leave its place under your skirt, "what the fuck was that for?"

"No one said we have to play fair," Sirius replied, shoving his hand back under your skirt and cupping between your thighs.

You barely reacted apart from a small gasp.

"You really are a tough one, huh?" Sirius teased, his hand falling for a moment.

Smirking, you responded, "you wanna make me come? You're gonna have to put in the work. Unless you think you can't handle it? Too busy fucking girls and not women?"

"Working me up is only gonna make this more intense for you," Sirius taunted, "you're playing a dangerous game."

"Don't listen to him, he's a cocky fuck," James laughed from behind Sirius.

You shifted your hips and let out a small moan. Sirius thought his words were really working you up, until he looked down to see that Remus had not only snuck his way between your legs while you and Sirius were talking, but that his head disappeared under your skirt.

Sirius decided to let Remus do some of the hard work before he chimed back in to bring you to the edge, so he stepped back, crossing his arms and sighing as he stood next to James. "At least flip the skirt up for me, gorgeous."

You pulled your skirt up, bunching it up and tucking it into its own waistband, leaving Remus visible, and when he pulled away to breathe, your core as well.

Remus flicked his tongue over your clit, one hand on your hip hooking a thumb around the fabric of your underwear to keep it to the side. Your fingers intertwined into his soft curls, keeping him in place as he moved his tongue faster and faster.

"You're kinda good at this," you spoke breathily, earning a moan of acknowledgement, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

James decided to step in, standing to your side and turning your face toward him to finally take his turn at a kiss. The kiss was slow and passionate, the intimacy of it making you even wetter for Remus between your legs. His glasses fogged up due to the heat radiating off of your body.

When James pulled away, he kept a hand under your chin to keep your eyes on him instead of Remus. Remus's unoccupied hand began to take over his tongue's spot, circling your clit as he moved his face further back, teasing your entrance.

You let out a moan, staring into James's eyes. James nodded when you made the noise. "Good girl, that feel good?"

"Mhm," you responded, moaning again.

Remus's tongue began to fuck into you, his hand still working your clit. You used your hand to press his face further into you, refusing to give up the pleasure. You so rarely were properly pleasured by men, since they were typically unfamiliar with how to actually work their way around a woman's body, but you had a feeling that at least one of these three had to know what they were doing. You hoped it would be all of them.

As far as who you wanted to win, well, you didn't really have a preference. Honestly, all of them were hot, and you would be happy coming for any of them. Of course, there was a little bit of stake in the game. They allowed you to pick the prize for whoever won. You hadn't told them yet, but the prize would be you. Consistent sex-capades with the one girl around who could truly do it for them? That's a prize in itself.

You knew they had a lot of sex. You knew they slept with a ton of people, but you also knew that they were usually the ones giving the pleasure, not receiving it. The prize? That would change.

"Fuck, Jamie," you moaned, still staring into his eyes as Remus ate you out.

Remus pulled away, his hand never stopping as he said, "that's not fucking fair, I'm the one doing the work down here. He didn't even earn his name."

"And you think you did?" James challenged.

"She's only moanin' cus of me," Remus shot back.

"Well, you clearly haven't made her come, and you've been down there long enough," James said, "my turn."

Remus had the same thought as Sirius, and opted to let James do some of the work as well.

He sighed and backed up, and James dropped to his knees.

Despite being on his knees, James gripped the back of your thighs, hoisting you up so that your thighs were resting on his shoulders. You squealed in surprise at his strength.

"You're strong," you said.

"You have no idea," he responded, gripping your ass and pushing you into his face, immediately beginning to move his tongue at a rapid pace, his head shaking back and forth from the speed.

"Oh fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back and knocking it against the brick, "fuck, just like that."

Sirius approached again, standing directly behind James an pushing his head further into you. He leaned over James and kissed you, swallowing to whimper that followed.

James refused to stop, eating you out like he was starving. Each time you made a noise that Sirius found hot, he pushed James's head harder into you. James didn't let out a single noise of protest.

You looked down and spotted Sirius's hand on James's head, forcing him to increase the pleasure his mouth was giving you, and it caused your core to flex.

"Fuck," you gasped, "oh my god, James, fuck."

"Earned his name, I see," Sirius teased, turning to Remus.

Remus pretended to act annoyed, but anyone could see his dick straining against his pants for dear life. Even if the name you moaned wasn't his, it was still hot nevertheless, and he knew it would be his name when he was the one making you come. He had no doubts. Why not let James and Sirius have a little fun first?

Part of the reason you were so hard to make come was that man didn't understand that just eating out or just penetration wasn't enough for you. These boys had no idea that as long as they remained kneeling between your legs, they were already way off.

It took ten minutes of James eating you out before he took a breath. "Fucking hell, are you close?"

You giggled. "I don't know, am I?"

Remus caught on. "You need to be fucked, huh?"

"Okay fuck you, she might actually be close," James said, but stood up anyways.

"Didn't you guys pick me because you knew it wouldn't be easy?" you asked.

James gripped your chin and pulled your face against his, trapping you in a heated kiss to remind you that he could, in fact, make you feel good.

“Up,” Remus said, snaking his arms around your thighs, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his hips.

You watched in the gap between your bodies as Remus pushed everything below the waist down, exposing his long, slender cock.

He gently pressed his forehead against yours, looking between your bodies as well as he lined himself up with your entrance. He waited a moment for you to revoke consent, but when you didn’t, he pushed himself into you.

You tilted your head back as he bottomed out, barely giving you any time to adjust before he started fucking you.

You locked your legs behind him, crossing your feet to keep you in place. He kept his hands under your thighs to hold you up as he fucked you, his lips trailing down to your jawline.

“Shit, Remus,” you moaned.

The use of his name only egged him on more, causing him to start fucking into you faster. “Good fucking girl, I can feel you squeezing me,” he whispered into your air.

You whined and whimpered as his cock pumped in out of you, and Remus was beginning to lose control.

You squirmed momentarily, and Remus grabbed your hand in his own, moving it over your head and pinning it against the brick wall. “Stay fucking still.”

You saw a window of opportunity, and arched your back. “Or what?” you breathily asked.

Remus nearly growled, immediately dropping your hand and wrapping his fingers around your throat. He snapped his hips harshly, not caring about the competition anymore, just caring about fucking you the hardest you’ve ever been fucked. His hand pressed your neck into the brick, rendering you unable to move your head. In tandem with deep thrusts, he repeated, “stay. Fucking. Still.”

You obeyed.

You opened your eyes and spotted James, who was covering half of his face with his hand, breathing deeply to maintain self control. The eye contact only added to your arousal, because James’s eyes were trained on you so intensely that you almost couldn’t handle it.

Your hands explored Remus’s body, feeling muscles on his arms that you couldn’t see in the light of day on his relatively skinny frame. You pawed at his hips, involuntarily trying to push each thrust even further into you.

Sirius approached you two, his cock in hand as he gently stroked himself. “Let her off the wall.”

Remus, sweaty and losing breath, removed his lips from sucking your jawline to look at Sirius. “I’m fucking occupied.”

“Let her off the wall,” Sirius repeated, “I didn’t say you had to stop fucking her.”

Remus dipped his head into the crook of your neck. “I fucking hate you,” he said, directed as Sirius, but he remembered the terms he agreed to, and knew he was hogging you. So he moved his hands to your thighs again, and stepped backward from the building, his cock still in you.

The shifting of his hips as he moved was causing stimulation without Remus even trying.

Remus turned so that your back was to Sirius, and he resumed fucking you, slower this time. His arms moved you slightly up and down to aid in his thrusts, his hips moving the best he could without you pressed against the wall.

Sirius pressed your back against his chest, his head dipping into the crook of your neck as he began to kiss your shoulder, your neck, and your jawline, until he turned your head sideways and kissed you.

You allowed your body to fall into him, Remus’s thrusts causing you to jerk upward every few seconds. Sirius fought to hold your head against his, but honestly you moving due to getting fucked only made him harder.

“You ever done this back here before?” Sirius whispered to you.

“Mhm,” you responded, barely able to speak from how hard Remus was thrusting into you.

Sirius spit into his hand and rubbed it up and down his cock, preparing himself.

“Stop for a second,” Sirius told Remus.

“Fuck no,” Remus said, lost in pleasure.

“Stop for a second or this could hurt her, dumbass,” Sirius clarified.

Remus stopped thrusting and pressed his forehead to your collarbone, catching his breath for a second and trying to stay still until he could resume movement.

Sirius lined himself up, wrapping one hand around your stomach, and using the other hand to hold your ass up as he slowly pushed himself into your ass.

You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, allowing him to take his time stretching you.

“Would you fucking hurry up?” Remus snapped, clearly annoyed.

“You can wait 10 more seconds,” Sirius replied, trying to focus on restraint.

“Shouldn’t have to, selfish fuck.”

“I’m selfish? Who just stood here fucking her without me or James getting-“

“Just fucking get to it,” Remus was losing control by the second.

“That’s what I’m doing, thank you very much.”

“It’s just like you to be cocky while you’re literally sticking your dick in-“

“Well maybe if you stopped fucking distracting me then I-“

“Would you two please shut up and fuck me?” you chimed in.

Sirius was finally bottomed out, and he tested the waters by thrusting only an inch or two at a time. Once he started a normal pace, Remus began his own relentless pace again, barely even acknowledging that Sirius was there.

When Remus thrusted in, jerking you backward, Sirius would take the opportunity to thrust forward as well, the two boys not having to move a ton because you were being tossed between their cocks, the movements giving you makeshift thrusts.

“James,” you said.

He perked up, somewhat shocked that you said his name while sandwiched between his two best friends.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to touch me,” you said.

Remus and Sirius both looked up to acknowledge what was happening, but ended up looking up directly at each other.

They stayed watching each other for a moment, their breaths staggered and their faces glistening from sweat.

Sirius reached past you and grabbed the back of Remus’s head, pulling him in.

Sirius and Remus’s lips collided directly next to you, and the sight of them kissing as they both fucked you almost did you in.

Almost. James approached your other side, not daring to interrupt the hotness of the kiss, and he placed his own soft kiss on your temple.

“You want me to touch you?” he teased.

“Please, Jamie,” you were not above pleading to get what you want.

James ran his hand down your body, which was still bouncing up and down, slowly dragging between your breast area and down your stomach. He stilled just under your skirt’s waistband.

“Ask me for it again,” James said.

“Please touch me, James, I need it so bad.”

His hand moved lower.

“How bad? You need me to make you come?”

“I need it, I wanna come, please Jamie, please.”

“Atta girl,” he said.

He kissed you as he began circling your clit with his finger. You moaned into the kiss, garnering the attention of Sirius and Remus, who breathily pulled away from one another to watch your body react to now being touched.

You leaned back against Sirius, your moans escalating in both frequency and volume.

“Oh m- fuck, I’m gonna come,” you moaned.

Sirius and Remus both began to fuck you harder, but you stopped them quickly.

“No, no, do what you were doing,” you said, “don’t escalate. Fuck me like you were.”

The boys both resumed their previous pace, and you felt the knot begin to form in your stomach.

James applied a slight bit more pressure to your clit, and you knew you were in for it.

“I’m coming, I-“

You came hard, your wetness completely coating Remus’s cock as your orgasm washed over you. It was so intense, likely from your body not being used to men making you come like this, that your legs started to shake. You would have fallen if it weren’t for two boys holding you between them.

James gradually slowed his hand down, kissing you through the orgasm to help calm you down.

Remus couldn’t help himself but join you. He hit your cervix with three brutal thrusts as he allowed himself to come, his head resting on your shoulder as he took a breath.

After you and Remus had calmed down, Sirius pulled out of you, allowing Remus to place you down. You stayed clinging onto Remus, not convinced that your legs would work after being hoisted up for so long.

Sirius had already taken a step back to finish himself off, roaring lowly as he came and painted a brick on the wall white.

That left James, who looked completely pleased and content.

“You didn’t-“

“Oh, I did,” James said, looking down.

You spotted the wet patch between his legs, and realized that James came without any stimulation of his own, but just from watching all of you and doing to you what he did.

Remus finally pulled out of you, stepping back from you and running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”

After a few minutes of everyone resetting and catching their breath, it was Sirius who finally asked, “so? Who won?”

“Clearly me,” James said, “she asked me to touch her, and that’s what did her in.”

“I’m sorry, whose cock was hitting her g-spot?” Remus smiled.

“It was the DP that did it, obviously, idiots,” Sirius defended himself.

They all turned to you.

“Tie.”

“No no no, it’s not a fucking tie,” Sirius said, walking back over to you, “which one of us did it for you? You have to pick one.”

“No I don’t,” you shrugged.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t, Sirius,” you said, “I’m allowed to decide it’s a tie. I’m not in your little competition, I don’t have to follow any rules. It’s a tie.”

“But-“

“You were all fucking me at the same time, what did you expect?”

“So- so who gets whatever the winner gets, then?” James asked.

“All of you, I guess.”

“Yeah? And what do we all get?” Remus asked.

“Well, you all just came, so I guess you gotta wait,” you responded.

James raised his brows. “The prize is a blowjob? From you?”

“Yeah,” you said, “as many as you want, whatever you want with me, whenever you want, yeah.”

Remus smirked. Sirius chuckled and smiled wide, and James was still in disbelief.

“I haven’t come that hard in months,” Remus said.

But, after a year with your boys, you'd expect nothing less.

Finally, it was your turn to disembark. You hoisted your trunk from the overhead compartment, lugging it behind you as you tottered down the aisle. Urgency made your heart race, knowing Sirius was just outside, but you fought to keep a regular walking pace and not mow down the elderly couple in front of you.

The conductor helped you down the stairs, a blessing because you were looking everywhere but your feet. Too busy searching the crowd for one of your favorite faces—there!

Sirius was leaned against the column, dressed in black jeans and his beloved, patch-covered leather jacket, cradling a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his arms.

Your eyes connected at the same instant, a lightning strike, and he grinned. He rushed across the terminal towards you, dodging the elderly and children like quaffles. Plowing through like a man possessed. Single-minded.

He slammed into you with the force of his urgency. One arm looped around your waist, hauling you up into his chest.

“There's my girl,” he cooed, planting a smacking kiss on your cheek.

You threw your arms around his neck, squeezing tight as all the travel stress, all the longing, finally loosened from your shoulders.

Sirius had you. What was there to worry about?

He dipped you backwards, your toes just scraping the concrete, and kissed you with a ferocity that had your head spinning, and the conductor clearing his throat.

“Missed you, doll,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Missed you,” you giggled, your heart gone gooey.

He straightened, setting you back onto wobbly knees. “Trade?” He asked, offering you the flowers while eyeing your trunk.

“Deal.” You accepted the flowers, burying your nose in the fresh, sun-washed scent. Sirius, the show-off, hefted your trunk without any of your earlier struggles.

“What'dya got in here? Feathers?” He joked, draping an arm over your shoulders. He knew exactly what was in there—he helped you pick out all the slutty little outfits himself. “Appreciate you getting her home safe, sir,” Sirius saluted the conductor, who only laughed and shook his head.

“Thank you!” You chirped as Sirius began to push through the crowd. Not that it was very difficult, he had a way of parting the general population of London like the Red Sea.

“So, how was it? Anyone get their eyes scratched out?” He asked with a knowing smirk. Sirius loved a good gossip session. Especially when Remus wasn't around to chastise the two of you for it.

Delighted, you regaled him of all the drama and activities of the weekend, jabbering on while he navigated the train station. He kept you close as you made your way out to the parking lot, protective in the crush of people, but loosened up as the crowd thinned and his motorcycle came into sight.

Two helmets hung on the handlebars.

“Despite what Prongs and Moony think, I am responsible,” he teased. “When it comes to you, at least.”

“I never doubted you, my love,” You pecked his cheek before he shimmied the helmet over your head, careful not to snag your ears. He shirked his leather jacket, offering that to you, too.

You let yourself bask in the warmth of it for a moment, cocooned in all things Sirius. Leather polish and cigarette smoke. That too-musky cologne James got him for his birthday last year. Studs and calfskin armor shelter a gooey center.

With the visor of your helmet flicked up, you snapped a selfie and texted it to the group chat.

[you]: [1 attachment] safe and sound 🫶

Sirius strapped down your luggage and you climbed onto the bike behind him, arms fastened securely around his waist, thighs pressed tight around his hips. Just like he taught you.

“Good girl,” he purred, voice rough and low through the modulator.

A flicker of warmth bloomed low in your belly, heating your cheeks. An involuntary shift of your hips rocked you forward an extra centimeter.

“Hold tight.” His heel struck downwards. The bike started with a thunderous roar. And you were flying.

Together, you tore through the streets of London, a blur of brownstone and November sky. With white-knuckles, you clung to Sirius, exhilaration zipping through you. His hand wandered over your denim-clad leg until his red-hot fingers skimmed the exposed skin of your ankle. They wrapped around the delicate bone, a barrier from the vengeful South London streets.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you replied, breathless.

The ride to your shared flat was brief, less than ten minutes, but it still had your heart pounding in your throat and…other places.

Sirius carried your trunk up the stairs while you raced ahead, bursting through the unlocked door.

“Baby!” James cried, jumping up from where he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by IKEA boxes, foam peanuts, and plywood. He was shirtless, dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants, glasses, and a toothy grin. “Fuck, I missed you.” He grabbed you around the middle, careful not to crush the flowers—what was left of them after the bike ride, anyway—and hefted you into the air. Twirled you around once, twice, making you giggle and shriek as you clung to his Herculean shoulders.

“Is that who I think it is?” Remus emerged from the kitchen, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder. He was dressed in joggers and a too-large sweater you’d unearthed from a bin at the consignment down the block. “Careful, Prongs. You'll smother her,” he warned, though his eyes were getting meltier by the second.

“Missed you too, Jamie,” you laughed, fizzing with delight. Your mouth found his as he set you back onto the floor, the kiss a little toothy since you couldn’t seem to stop smiling. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks for the help, muscles,” Sirius grumbled, pushing into the flat behind you. Suddenly fatigued now that James was in ear shot.

“I was building her bookcase!” James argued, releasing you to take the trunk from Sirius. A regular Superman.

“And destroying the living room, apparently,” Sirius teased. Besides the new-furniture wreckage, the flat was spotless. Candles burning and lights dimmed low, soft music floating from somewhere. Natural as an exhale from the lungs of your home.

James huffed. “Well, maybe if you had helped me earlier instead of taking a nap—”

“If you don't want me to take a nap, don't wake me up at the bloody ass crack of dawn when you go for your run!”

You slipped out from between them, sidling over to where Remus was leaning against the entry to the kitchen. His hazel eyes turned molten as you approached, golden in the setting sun. An arm lifted, your favorite invitation, and you tucked yourself into the welcoming curve of his side. He took the flowers from you, setting them on the counter.

“How was your trip, darling?” He asked, nuzzling into the crown of your head. Dropping a kiss there.

“Good,” you murmured, sagging into the warmth of his body. The last of your tension dissolved. A teaspoon of sugar to Remus’ cup of tea. “Happy to be home, though.”

He made a low, appreciative hum in his throat, hugging you a bit tighter. “Why don't you go get cozy while I finish dinner, hm? I know traveling stresses you out.”

“What're you making?” You asked, not quite ready to leave the warmth, the steadiness of his embrace.

“Your favorite,” he replied, fingers wandering beneath the hem of your sweatshirt to brush against your skin. A shiver rolled down your spine, and you felt him smile against your hair. “And chocolate cake for dessert.”

You chuckled. “So, both of our favorites?”

“I think I deserve it after dealing with those sorry saps for an entire weekend. Alone.”

“Surely they weren't that bad…” You trailed off, your other boyfriend's argument ratcheting up to a full-on wrestling match. Though you weren’t sure that whacking your opponent with strips of cardboard counted as wrestling. “Okay, fair enough.”

Remus’ hand came up to cradle the back of your head, tilting your face up towards him. “Speaking of trouble-makers, did you wear a helmet the entire ride?” He asked, the words tickling against your lips.

You nodded, heart tripping over itself.

“And did you hold on nice and tight to our Sirius?”

Another nod.

“And he obeyed all the traffic laws?”

“…mostly.”

Remus tsked. “Well, I suppose that's not your fault, is it, dove?”

You shook your head ‘no’, lower lip jutting out to prove your innocence.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, nipping at your lips before molding his mouth to yours in a syrupy, unhurried kiss you felt all the way down to your toes. He tasted like mint and herbal tea, like home.

Beeeep! The oven shrieked. Remus startled, breaking the kiss to glare at the offending appliance.

“Have to get that,” you murmured, lips brushing against his jaw.

“Yeah, might burn,” he replied, though his hold remained steadfast as he turned his face back towards you.

“Mhmm.” You lifted onto your toes, closing the minuscule gap for another kiss.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep! The oven demanded again, more insistent.

You stepped away this time, slipping out of his reach before you could get caught up again. He drew his lower lip between his teeth, turning lazily over his shoulder to head back into the kitchen.

Sirius was waiting for you at the bedroom door, pink-cheeked and hair disheveled. Chest rising and falling quickly. James fared even worse, sprawled out in his mess with a very visible hard-on straining against his sweatpants. Glasses askew. Panting.

Drool pooled beneath your tongue.

Sirius caught your expression, but wrangled you before you could pounce. “C’mon, doll. Let's get you showered and comfy before your three-course meal,” he murmured against your ear, sending another flush of heat beneath your skin.

He led you into the bathroom, but didn't linger, just got the shower set to your preferred temperature, scalding, and laid out a pair of pyjamas. Not the sexy variety he usually selected, but the fuzzy, oversized flannel bottoms you loved, along with one of James’ well-worn Quidditch t-shirts. “Just shout if you need anything—and I mean anything,” he said with a wink before taking his leave.

"Tell James his chocolates are in my purse!" You called after him, then, "And don't eat them all!"

"Sure, doll!" He called back, smirk audible.

Alone for the first time in days, you undressed in the thick, lavender-scented steam of the bathroom, replaying the events of the day in your mind

Bottomless mimosas at brunch with your friends, the scramble to catch the train, the endless rolling hills and rattling track, the boy's sweet texts.

You stepped into the shower, letting it wash away the train smell and stubborn hangover. But what lingered, imprinted on your skin, were the traces of your boys, a smile teasing the edges of your mouth. Your mind conjured the gorgeous flowers, that dramatic, oh-so-Sirius kiss, your body pressed against his as you flew through the city, bike purring between your legs while his hand wandered. So protective, so confident—a throb between your legs made you gasp, the residual burn from their touches fanned into an inferno by your thoughts.

James’ sculpted body, back flexing as he built your bookcase without you even having to ask, the effortless way he manhandled you. Remus, with the towel over his shoulder, that casually sinful glimmer in his eye while he watched your boyfriends fight. The way he kissed you, savoring, decadent, his whispered praise bouncing off the walls of your skull.

Your hand drifted unconsciously between your legs while you washed yourself, and your fingers came away slick, heat dripping down your thighs.

Fuck, just the thought of them had you soaked.

You finished your shower in a hurry, opting for just James’ t-shirt and a pair of panties. The fewer barriers between you and them, the better.

You emerged to find James alone in the living room, lifting the assembled bookcase into its rightful, standing position, and your eyes damn near popped out of your skull. That thing had to weigh over a hundred pounds; the box clearly marked it as a two-person lift. But James made it look easy.

He noticed you once he was sure it wouldn't tip over, catching your blatant ogling, and flashed you a wink. “What do you think? Looks good, huh?”

“Uh huh.” You nodded, crossing the piles of debris to reach him. He really had tried to consolidate it, you could tell, and it stoked that fire in your belly even higher. “Looks perfect.” You wrapped your arms around his waist. Unconsciously, dare you say instinctively, your lips meandered along his chest, his collarbone, tongue dragging over the sun-kissed skin with ravenous abandon. You were only human, after all. And that chest was begging to be kissed.

He chuckled, palming the back of your head while you worshipped him. “I don't know about perfect, but—ah, fuck, baby.”

You sank your teeth into the meat of his pec, savoring the way his muscles jumped and tensed before soothing the marks with your tongue. His fingers tightened in your hair, drawing your head back. You licked your lips, batting your lashes at him. The very picture of innocence.

“Oh, you feral little thing. No funny business until after dinner. Rem’s been slaving away,” James reprimanded, though his tone was heavy with reluctance.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, pouting.

James’ gaze snagged on that dewy lower lip like a dog on a leash, breath going shallow—

“Dove?” Remus called, poking his head out into the living room. “Can you come taste this for me?”

The tension shattered. But you were far from finished.

“Yes, sir!” You chirped, sweet as a lamb.

Savvy, James gave you a chastising smack on the ass as you flitted towards the kitchen.

Remus shook his head at you, a smirk betraying his delight. The kitchen was bathed in warmth, the smell of garlic and butter hanging in the air. A muggle record turned languidly in the corner—Bon Iver.

Sirius was hunched over the island, diligently frosting the two-tiered chocolate cake with his tongue between his teeth, dark waves gathered into a bun at the nape of his neck. He'd lost his shirt, too, though he wore Remus’ “Kiss the Chef” apron, and his scrolls of dark ink were on near indecent display.

You hopped up onto the counter by the stove, t-shirt riding up your bare legs.

Remus’ eyes drifted over the swell of your thighs, but he didn't bite, instead offering you the edge of the spoon he was using to stir the sauce. You took a slow sip, holding his gaze, smoldering enough to scald.

It was perfect—his cooking always was—and you moaned, head falling back with pleasure.

Sirius dropped the spatula with a clatter, cursing under his breath.

“Cheeky girl,” Remus teased, setting the spoon back into the pot. His hands found your knees, spreading your legs so he could step between them. His lips found your temple, pressing featherlight kisses along the curve of your cheek until he reached that tender spot beneath your jaw. His sandy, two-day-old facial hair tickled the sensitive skin as his lips painted a petal-soft bruise.

Your thighs tensed around his hips, pulse leaping as his long fingers crept closer to where you were aching for them.

“Patience, darling,” he murmured. “Makes the reward that much sweeter.” And with that, he stepped away. Returning to the stove like he hadn't just thrown a match onto a puddle of gasoline.

As dinner progressed, it became abundantly clear that your boys were aware of your little…. predicament. Feeding you off of their forks, socked feet brushing along bare calves, lingering looks. Borderline excessive stretching and lip biting.

By the time Remus cut the cake, you were sitting in a pool if you own slick, thighs aching from an hour of squeezing them together.

James’ hand skimmed along your thigh, fingertips digging into the muscle in slow circular motions. “So tense, lovey. Feeling alright?” He asked, a hint of a smirk at the edges of his mouth.

At the end of your rope, you seized your opportunity and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, urging him higher. He complied, eyes shading as you spread your legs, bringing his fingers between the crux of your thighs. Letting him feel the slick that had seeped through your thin panties.

His jaw went a little slack, drawing a sharp inhale through his nose. Without a word, he slid off his chair, wedging his bulky body beneath the table.

“Jamie, what are you—” his hands gripped your inner thighs, wrenching you to the edge of your seat and forcing your legs apart. You hadn't even drawn a full breath before his mouth was on you, the muscle of his tongue laving a forceful swipe through your weeping pussy. “Oh, fuck—” you gasped, drawing the other boy's attention from cake-cutting logistics.

“Where did—” Sirius lifted the tablecloth. Peered underneath. “Oh, you greedy bastard.”

You could barely hear him over the roar of your blood in your ears, pleasure surging through you like a storm swell. James thrust his tongue inside of you, relentless as he drank you down. A low groan quaked through him, a distant roll of thunder, chased by a current of electricity striking your nervous system. You knotted your fingers into his dark hair, grinding his nose into your clit as you rocked against him.

“Oh my god, James—,” you moaned, throwing your head back as another bolt crashed through you.

“Couldn't wait another ten minutes?” Remus asked, but his eyes were shining with satisfaction. He loved nothing more than driving the rest of you to your breaking points.

Fortunately for you and your ego, James always folded first.

Sirius scraped a bit of frosting off his cake, licking the utensil clean while he watched your face contort, shoulders curl, as James devoured you. “Looks gorgeous, doesn't she, Rem?”

Remus hummed in agreement, rounding the table towards you. His fingers skimmed your shoulder, gliding upwards to cradle your face. You nuzzled into him, brushing your lips against his palm.

James’ tongue flicked up to your clit, drawing it between his teeth, and you gasped, tugging at his roots. He alternated pressure, gentle swirls broken by hard, rhythmic pulls that had sparks dancing behind your eyelids.

“You held out longer than I thought you would,” Remus murmured, stroking your hair out of your face with a saccharine softness. “Thought you'd break Sirius when you got in the shower, but—”

“I have self-control, unlike someone,” Sirius ribbed, casual as anything, slouched in his chair.

You loosed another cry, James doing something that made your lower belly coil sharply, and Sirius’s eyes darkened, betraying his nonchalance.

A wicked idea slithered through the fog in your mind.

“James, baby, fuck—make me feel so good,” you whined, and felt James smirk against you. Ever your co-conspirator.

“Taste so sweet, always so good f’me,” he added, the wetness clinging to his words almost obscene.

Sirius' expression darkened further.

Remus leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead to hide his own smile. More indulgent than the forgotten chocolate cake.

“Careful, now, dolly,” Sirius warned. “Or I might stop being such a gentleman.”

James eased two fingers inside of you, your body already soft and willing, lashing at your clit anyway to distract from the stretch. You keened, clutching onto Remus' arm as it wrapped around your shoulders to steady you.

Sirius’ fingers were a steady drum against the table.

Taptaptaptaptap.

A second warning.

“That's it, baby. Is that what you needed?” Remus asked, voice like honey-wine. “Needed Jamie to take care of that sweet little cunt?”

The scrape of a chair was your third and final warning. But you were too distracted by James’ curling fingers to heed it.

Remus brushed a final kiss to your temple before shifting away, and a pair of hands landed on your shoulders. The cool bite of rings jarring you back into the room.

Sirius leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “My turn.”

James untangled himself from your lower half just before Sirius yanked your chair backwards roughly. His hands slipped under your arms, lifting you onto unsteady feet. With a less-than-gentle push, he bent you at the waist over the table. Grip hard on the back of your neck. Pining you like an animal.

You had to bite your lip from crying out right then and there. Heart pattering like a rabbit against the back of your ribs.

“They're wrong, love. That's not what you needed, is it?” He growled, the jangle of his belt making your stomach flip, slick running down your thighs. “You want to get treated like a princess, then fucked like a whore, isn't that right?”

You nodded, lifting your hips to press against him. Dumb as a bitch in heat.

“Words, pet,” Remus ordered.

Sirius’ cock sawed through your slit, tucked beneath your sodden panties, thick and so fucking warm. Frenum piercings catching your clit just right. A rough hand palmed the globes of your ass, the kiss of his rings a heady contrast to your burning skin.

“C’mon, let him hear it.” James brushed your hair out of your face, dizzyingly tender compared to Sirius’ rough handling.

“Yes, f-fuck me like a whore—please, Siri,” you whined, fisting the tablecloth.

“That's my girl.” He notched the tip at your entrance, slamming to the hilt with one, ruthless punch. Even soaked as you were, the stretch still made you grit your teeth, your belly pressed against the wood making things infinitely tighter. He cursed under his breath, head falling against your shoulder, grip softening on your neck. “Merlin’s sake, dolly—fuck, are you tryin’ to kill me?”

You could only mewl, so full you could hardly breathe. But the satisfaction was mind-numbing, so acute, tears pricked along your lower lashes, soaking conspicuously into the fabric below.

“Look at that, Pads,” James whistled, “Makin’ her cry already.”

“Oh, she needed this bad,” Sirius panted, setting a slow, but punishing rhythm. Tearing you apart just to stitch you back together again. His piercing dragged against your front walls, catching that spongy spot below your belly button with infuriating, intoxicating accuracy. “Miss us that much, pretty?”

You nodded, arms flailing around for something to hold as you climbed perilously higher and higher, vision going blurry, brain leaking out from your eyes, from between your legs. Sirius grabbed both your arms, folding them against your lower back in a tight, one-handed grip. Started fucking you even harder, pounding into you with brutal determination. Hitting that spot over and over and over again.

“Say it,” he growled.

“M-missed you, missed you so—ngh—so fucking much,” you babbled, nails biting into his wrist, holding on for dear life.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus lean back against the table. James was on his knees in front of him, hurriedly tugging down the waistband of his joggers. Remus’ cock sprang out, slapping salaciously against his lower belly. Flushed pinker than the strawberry frosting and framed by mahogany curls. James swallowed him down with ease, eyes locked on Remus’ expression as it crumbled into bliss.

You cunt fluttered around Sirius at the sight, drawing a grunt from deep in his throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart—gonna make me come if you keep that up,” Sirius groaned, releasing your hands so he could fist your hair. He dragged you up, arching your spine to its limit, drilling in at a sharper anger that had you making an almost inhuman sound. “That's it, fucking take it—” his hand found your throat, gripping just tight enough to restrict your airflow, “—take it like such a good whore. Our dirty slut.”

“Yes, yes, yes—fuck, I’m gonna—” your orgasm crested and shattered, unraveling you in an endless euphoric instant.

“Give it to me, give it all to me—such a good dolly—” Sirius fucked you through it, your cunt squelching obscenely as you fell apart for him, your entire body convulsing with the force of your undoing. He released your throat only once the first wave passed, letting you catch your breath.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty, unmoored. Hands found your hips, spinning you around and tossing you up onto the table. Before the room stopped spinning, his mouth was on you, drinking down your release like a starving man. Ravenous.

“Oh, god, Sirius—” you cried, so sensitive you were twitching up the table, trying to retreat from the intensity of it. But his hands were like iron, holding you in place as he drowned in his reward.

“Easy, mutt,” Remus chastised, his voice a little frayed from James' attention. “Let her breathe.”

Sirius made a grunt of displeasure, but slowed anyway, obedient. Stealing a few more lush licks through your twitching pussy as you shuddered and whined. Pressed a farewell kiss to your puffy clit before sitting up.

He guided your arms around his neck, cooing softly to you, but you were too drunk on oxytocin to really hear him. Suddenly, you were airborne, Sirius’ arms bracketed around your thighs. You buried your nose into his neck, trying to get your bearings even as the world moved around you, your body still hair-trigger sensitive.

“Jamie and Remus are gonna have theirs now, love, okay? Can you take a little more, or do you need a break?” Sirius asked, lowering onto the nearly made bed. All concern and tenderness as he settled you against the nest of pillows.

“Love you,” was all you could think to say, and his smile was brighter than the sun.

“Love you too, sweet girl. But we’re gonna need a ‘yes’.”

James and Remus stood on either side of you, gooey-eyed and flushed, and you nodded.

“Yes, please.”

You lost track of who was where, who came when, and how often, adrift in a sea of delirium and bliss. By the time you all were finished, your bodies and the sheets were damp with sweat and god knows what else. Disheveled and delirious, entirely too wrung out to do much more than mouth absently on Remus’ shoulder where your head had fallen.

His hand curled around your cheek, brushing your sweat-slicked strands from your eyes. “Worth the wait, dove?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed as his hands combed through your bedraggled hair. Someone’s hands skimmed over your lower back, your hip, massaging away the stiffness and fatigue. Another swiped a warm rag between your legs, cleaning you up with careful strokes.

You melted into it, their easy affection and tender touches. Piecing you back together like a sacred statue. Mending your cracks with gold and sweetness until you were whole again. And all you had to do was lie there and accept it, something you struggled with in the beginning. But, over time, and with a lot of gentle, but persistent coaxing, you’d learned that not only were you allowed to accept their generous affection and care, you deserved it.

You deserve partners who look after you, show up without question, and take responsibility for the space they occupy in your life.

You deserve a generous love.

thank you for reading! 🤍